


Everything to Play for

by Luthienberen



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>General Charles Lee overhears part of a conversation between Ben and Sackett discussing Washington’s anger at Ben for entrapping General Lee with a false letter from Gates. Realising he is suspected of potential treason General Lee determines to manipulate the situation in his favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Update 10th August 2016: Now beta-read by the terrific rae_fa. No plot changes!**
> 
> This story came about because I couldn’t resist the idea of what General Lee would do if he discovered Ben suspected him of treason. 
> 
> I was stuck between two titles and allowed my friend to cast the vote, which resulted in ‘Everything to Play for’ being selected. Thank you rae_fa!

^_^_^_^_

 

Major Tallmadge’s voice trailed off as he walked away with Sackett. General Charles Lee exhaled slowly, heart racing. So that was how matters stood vis-a-vis his position in the camp as Major Andre’s agent and in relation to General Washington.

For the first time since his capture by the British, General Lee was badly shaken. Not enough to cause a scene in front of the soldiers in the camp - he was a hardened soldier with far too much experience to quake openly and surrender his cover instantly - but sufficiently unsettled so his palms were sweaty and his breathing quicker than normal.

Glancing around Charles couldn’t see anyone looking his way. He was in-between Sackett’s hut and a tent where he had been walking by sheer accident, due to some of his men deciding to have a brawl with some of General Washington’s men off in the trees. Sometimes Charles felt that he was looking after idiot children who couldn’t pick more opportune moments to fight, instead picking just before an inspection or possible battle when all able-bodied men were necessary.

Though of course, in this instance, the men’s general idiocy had proven useful.

“Thank heaven for stupidity.”

Shaking his head and quelling his rapidly growing alarm, he decided to retire to his tent as quickly as possible.

Confidently striding away Charles maintained that veneer of cool arrogance until his tent flap safely fell closed behind him.

Striding over to his work table strewn with maps with strategic points plotted over it, Charles slammed his fist into the table, causing a couple of quills to roll off the table and ink to spill, ruining two maps - maps he would have to now redo.

“Damnations!” Swearing helped to air his anger and fear, but didn’t do much to actually solve the situation he was in.

Pacing Charles tried ordering his thoughts. It was obvious that Tallmadge and Sackett suspected him - why else try and capture him into saying something treasonous to Gates?

It had also worked, since he had replied to what he had believed to be Gates’ letter…though how exactly had Tallmadge recreated Gates’ writing so perfectly? It was deeply alarming to realise that he couldn’t trust any correspondence crossing his desk anymore.

Charles frowned and filed that rumination away for further consideration later. At the moment he remained a free man despite their efforts. Pausing in his pacing he recalled what he had overheard.

General Washington had dismissed Tallmadge’s concerns on the basis of it being a dishonest means of ensnaring his person. Charles snorted. Well, it seemed the Commander was honourable even to those he disliked and who returned the sentiment. However, such leniency while a relief was hardly comforting, as he had already realised there had to have been a reason for Tallmadge setting such a trap, an incident that had occurred to make the Major and Sackett suspicious of him.

The panic from earlier surged forward again as there was only one valid answer to that line of enquiry.

Major Tallmadge and Sackett suspected his collusion with Major Andre.

His vision temporarily grew dark around the edges causing Charles to gasp. Perspiration sprang up on his forehead and his legs seemed weak. Trembling, Charles could feel himself weaken.

_No._

Fury at his pathetic response filled his mind. His usual confidence and brashness reasserted itself and Charles forcibly planted his feet into the ground.

_“I will not faint.”_

Gritting his teeth Charles breathed deeply until he was relatively calm. Then, correcting his posture until his back was so straight it would do a British soldier proud, Charles walked over to the area separating the front of his tent from the tiny space he used for his sleeping quarters.

Slipping in through the curtain of material which granted some privacy, Charles went to the bowl of water he kept by his bed so he could refresh himself if required. Splashing water on his face Charles caught a glimpse of his face in his shaving mirror.

He was pale, but a little colour was returning thankfully.

“Well Charles, you are in a predicament. How will you get yourself out of this one?”

He was angry at being discovered by the insolent Major, however for once his anger was contained by the wariness and precariousness of his position.

If Tallmadge suspected, as did Sackett that he was assisting the Major, then it was inconceivable that the General’s pup hadn’t also informed him that Charles was potentially a traitor.

So why not arrest him? Charles pondered. The poor entrapment he understood, but that did not explain why Tallmadge was out of favour with the Commander. He had witnessed the boy’s fawning - one out of many among Washington’s men - with the commander showing favouritism towards Tallmadge.

It seemed hardly likely he wouldn’t therefore heed Tallmadge’s concerns - surely the Major hadn’t erred so badly that his concerns were no longer valued? No, there had to be another reason.

Dabbing his wet face with a cloth Charles stripped off his jacket to cool off. That reason eluded him and made Charles anxious. Any unknowns at this point could signal his neck in the noose and possibly Bradford’s as well.

That reminded him, he would have to warn Bradford to watch himself and lie low.

_What are you playing at?_ General Washington had something in mind, either he suspected Charles as well or didn’t. The former was far more worrying, yet the latter option could still lead to ill if permitted to brew.

Whatever he did had to account for both probabilities while favouring the former. For that is how he had to play the situation: as if the worst case scenario existed, in that Washington entertained the notion that he was a traitor.

Closing his eyes Charles cleared his mind. He had to treat this like any other battle with the proper strategy. First account for all the pieces and eventualities so he could ascertain the layout. Next check for weaknesses.

...And there it was: shining in all its glory.

Major Benjamin Tallmadge.

The boy was out of favour with General Washington. Even if General Washington held any faith in Charles being a traitor, Tallmadge had obviously interfered with his plans enough that he no longer trusted Tallmadge’s judgement.

A slow smile spread over Charles’s face. Opening his eyes he sighed as his plan of action popped into being.

All he had to do to weaken any evidence against his person were three things:

Firstly, play innocent which meant no more correspondence with Gates beyond war reports or generalities of friendship.

Secondly, further to step one, there would be no more spy work for Andre. That would have to wait if indeed he was ever able to resurrect that role.

Thirdly and lastly, he must work on widening the gap between Tallmadge and the Commander through the most perfect means available: by becoming friendly slowly and carefully with the General.

Charles grimaced; this step held much difficulty and would require a careful approach. Washington and his men would understandably be suspicious and wary of his sudden turnaround. Therefore, Charles needed a valid excuse to set his plans in motion.

Thankfully, his and Washington’s soldiers had proven useful yet again. He would have to thank them somehow later. Charles smiled at the simplicity of his idea.

His excuse for suddenly relaxing his unfriendly stance towards the General? Well, all he had to do was explain that he was regretful of his outspoken and rather public behaviour toward Washington, as it seemed to be causing growing rifts among the men.

Consequently, those rifts were interfering with the running of an efficient army in fights that were gradually escalating - the latest fight being a perfect example.

Charles knew that it was unlikely that the Commander would disagree with his assessment, whether he would receive his second-in-command’s apologies warmly was uncertain.

However, Charles was determined to fan Washington’s response from cool to warm. He would manipulate General Washington into disbelieving everything Tallmadge said about one Charles.

It would be the perfect revenge on that conniving boy.

The only drawback to his plan was that he would have to spend copious amounts of time in General Washington’s company and while Charles wasn’t averse to saving his life, socialising with the Commander would be punishment for his own stupidity. Of course, there was the possibility he might be fortunate and find a quality or two he liked in the man or even a shared interest. Charles snorted at the very thought.

“General Lee?” Major Bradford called from outside his tent, startling Charles.

“Yes Major?” Charles was relieved to hear his voice come out steady with no traces of anger or panic.

“You wished to inspect the men once I had sorted them?” Bradford clearly was wondering if that was still his plan.

Knowing he better emerge so no rumours spread, thereby spoiling his plans before he could even start, Charles donned his jacket again and checked his appearance. All was in order. Tension hummed through him at the knowledge at the peril he was in, while simultaneously nervous excitement at his idea to counteract the danger set his very blood alive.

The game had begun.

“Watch out Major Tallmadge, you shall find me a formidable opponent,” Charles Lee murmured as he went to join Major Bradford.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Washington receives a strange visit from General Charles Lee with an even stranger solution to a shared problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the long delay in posting Chapter 2. Life simply took over. For those who are still reading this or may read it, I hope you enjoy this next offering. :)
> 
> Beta-read by rae_fa.

His headache wasn’t improving. General Washington sighed and pinched his nose, shutting his eyes against the warm glow of the lamp. Evening had fallen more quickly than he realised as he finished absorbing the information bought by Major Tallmadge.

The troop movements were valuable and needed immediate attention. Yet the afternoon had waned with George finding it difficult to always keep his mind on the pertinent facts before him.

Opening his eyes George stopped pinching his nose and stood to relieve his sore back. Walking and stretching eased the pain somewhat and Washington completed his circuit by the window, a frown creasing his features. Why was Major Tallmadge behaving so foolishly?

He had given the boy a _direct command **not** _ to pursue General Lee yet the Major had done so, going so far as to dishonourably entrap the General. As much as he deplored General Lee, he would not have the man caught by such means. If General Lee ever discovered what had happened he would rightly have cause for demanding Major Tallmadge was either demoted in rank or worse thrown out of the army following court martial.

To lose the head of the Culper Ring, the only man who knew the identity of all the spies – and who conversely trusted him implicitly – would be disastrous. He prayed he wouldn’t have to remove the boy from such a valued position, but alas he would have to if Major Tallmadge persisted with his brash measures.

The burning light of campfires danced before George Washington as his frustration was soured by worry. Worry that chewed through him so his heart felt heavy with the unpleasant prospect he may have to remove Major Tallmadge from head of the Culper Ring. It would be an act abhorrent to George, but if Major Tallmadge persisted in pursing his own agenda and not trusting his Commander he may have no other choice.

George shook his head at the prospect for he was still fond of the remarkable man.

Clever, quick to consider new approaches and foolishly brave, all bundled by intense loyal ties to his Commander and even more fervent patriotism to America. Useful qualities that had served them well so far in this tiring war for independence but now were qualities that could bring the man to ruins.

Could Major Tallmadge be wrong in his convictions? Could this new spy be mistaken?

George followed the spark from a nearby campfire into the starry sky. The spy had to be mistaken. Accusing a man who had from the beginning encouraged the American people to not stand for their maltreatment by the British and who had urged them to fight for their freedom, of treason was a serious offence.

He remembered liking General Lee when they first met so many years ago though that was a distant dream now. To reconcile that with the General now burnished with the label “spy” was difficult even though he disliked the man intensely.

George was aware of his personal bias and was unwilling to proceed further without proof – solid undeniable proof. To require this evidence would take patience and stealth, not messages from possibly confused spies, or confessions gained by impersonation. They could also ill afford to be divided with the French showing interest in supporting America.

Foolish naïve boy! Good hearted and well-meaning but by not trusting his Commander he had nearly risked a future alliance. Further whispers of this against General Lee could not be risked at present, not until George was ready…months down the line.

His headache was definitely worse which was why naturally a solider stepped smartly in without a knock to announce General Lee.

The very man he had been contemplating and the last he desired to see.

“General Washington,” greeted the voice that caused his back to tense, neck to knot and head to throb.

“General Lee, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

General Lee looked as frustrated and exhausted as George felt. Despite his misgivings George was curious.

“This pleasurable visit we both owe to our men being no older than five. They were fighting like school children yet again. Do not ask me the entire reason for the brawl otherwise your head will be aflame by their rank stupidity.”

“Again?” George rubbed his temples understanding General Lee’s worn out form. “Please sit General.”

George sat and poured a glass of wine he kept near to hand in case of guests.

General Lee drank deeply before sighing. His mouth twisted wryly as he half glared half mocked, “How can we expect otherwise when their generals snipe at each other? If they are children we are the two bitter parents refusing to see how our behaviour affects them.”

How dare the man! George was tempted to raise his voice despite his headache.

A gloved hand rose to cut off his retort.

“Don’t argue General Washington, for it is a right but ugly truth. I have just come from speaking to my men and essentially it was another fight over our differences. We have loyal men General.”

General Lee saluted him with his wine glass, decorated with only a sliver of red.

“We can congratulate ourselves. Our men are loyal to us but enemies to each other. If this continues the British might just wander in after our men have finished their job for them. They are hardly fit for duty as they are.”

“Providence protect me, has it grown so bad?”

General Lee drained his glass and rolled his neck. George wondered if he too was suffering from a headache induced by well-intentioned but disobedient subordinates. Though he hadn’t heard Major Bradford’s name bandied about recently by Major Tallmadge, so if the man had caused General Lee angst it was a private affair, as was his with Major Tallmadge.

General Lee’s reply cut off his wandering thoughts as the soldier replaced his glass on the table and wriggled his fingers. His old injury had to be flaring up George realised.

“Unfortunately so, do you disagree from where the tensions stems from?”

As much as he would like to protest George was not an obtuse man. He understood his rivalry with General Lee was detrimental to them both and tensions like that _always_ bled down the ranks.

They were fortunate it wasn’t worst.

“No and it is worrisome indeed.” The answer was truthful and did little to relieve his tension.

“Were many injured? Were Majors Bradford and Tallmadge involved?”

The name of his Head of Intelligence understandably caused General Lee’s lips to thin and a sour expression to cross his face. Then the cloud passed and the gentleman shook his head. He seemed nearly amused when he said, “No thankfully. I can see why you would expect them to be leading the charge, however this time they seemed to have missed the opportunity.”

George breathed a minor sigh of relief. At least Major Tallmadge was listening in one respect to his Commander and not goading Major Bradford; or he was too busy implicating General Lee to notice. George prayed it was the former. He poured more wine for General Lee who still flexed his right hand to ease the stiffness in his joints and wounded fingers.

“As for injuries, five of our men in total are suffering bad bruising and bloody noses: three of mine and two of yours. Overall it could have been worse.”

His headache was so intense George was too clouded to think of a solution.

“I…have an idea if you would care to listen?”

The unusual tentativeness had George squinting past his mental fatigue and the murky fog that had temporarily obscured his vision. General Lee was observing him carefully, body tense and hunched slightly as if fearing his reaction.

It was the complete opposite of their normal interaction and startled George enough to compel him to ask for details.

“Yes?”

“As we are the cause we must also be the cure and to do this…”

General Lee paused to drag in a deep breath as he levelled an eerily calm and simultaneously pained gaze at him, “We will have to pretend to be…on good terms……and spend time alone together, be in frequent company no matter how painful.”

Inhaling sharply General Lee whispered, “Company that is not merely standing next to each other or arguing less. Rather, Generals who can discuss literature, play a game of cards and so on without dissolving into a squabble. This change of air surely will leech to the men improving their outlooks also.”

A squabble was a peculiarly diplomatic way of putting their disagreements, but a word George was thankful for as the suggestion was as shocking as gunfire.

General Lee threw more gunshots him, mouth rattling away shockingly quick as if he didn’t his courage would fail him.

“Distasteful as it is for both of us to spend time in each other’s company outside staff meetings; I believe it to be the only prudent course of action. I would rather we won this war and I can’t see how our men fighting each other _because their generals are openly at odds,_ achieves this goal. Far more likely it is to encourage easy disagreements, as we have unfortunately witnessed – wouldn’t you agree?”

George bit the inside of his cheek to reign the retort on his tongue that General Lee was hardly innocent in their dealings, for the gentleman was actually admitting he was partially at fault. A step further than his good self had taken.

How many fights had occurred recently? Too many, the latest of which had resulted in General Lee sitting across from him arguing for a truce! Not a resounding verdict. Living in camp while a war raged was never easy, doubly difficult when it was a war which pitted brother against brother, mother against child. To add to these seething troubles with bickering generals who ought to know better, wasn’t conducive to the men or the war.

George examined General Lee. His uniform was slightly dishevelled, cravat in position but his jacket askew and boots unpolished – George was unsurprised, he privately entertained himself wondering whether General Lee would be clad smartly or if one of his strange moods would take him, leaving him disordered in dress and temper.

Yet for his clothing his eyes were earnest, more earnest than George had seen recently. There was a light to them that glowed of truth. Tiredness from too many nights spent mapping manoeuvres and patrolling creased the corners of his eyes and mouth, adding to the weariness of a man at the end of his patience. George however was moved also by General Lee’s words, his voice was bitter, angry but also a tad desperate as if the General understood the losses they could suffer if their petty rivalry continued.

_Do you truly wish us to win General Lee? Or is Major Tallmadge correct and you are a spy?_

George Washington, Commander of the Continental armies prayed it wasn’t. Surely a man bent on delivering them to the enemy wouldn’t offer an opportunity to improve morale, particularly when it was distasteful to him?

He watched as General Lee gulped more wine as if to fortify his nerves after his speech and spectacular suggestion. His right hand gripped the stem weakly while his left hand curled around the arm of his chair, as if to grant support.

George shifted, pondering, for he did not wish to believe that one of his generals would betray America, though he would be careful. He wouldn’t risk the fate of America for a tempting truce that could solve his problems in the short-term, but prove disastrous in the long-term.

Sipping his first serving of wine George was honest. The men, the people of this nation, deserved better from those who led them and held their fate. It would also grant him time to cool Major Tallmadge’s hot head and if General Lee was a traitor this would either reveal him or sabotage his chances – a man couldn’t spy if he was busy playing friends in the near constant company of the Commander he wished to betray.

George spoke with the decisiveness that marked his character.

“Very well General Lee, you speak wisely. We cannot permit these childish fights to continue. Our enemy are the British not each other.”

Catching the relieved eyes of General Lee who was smiling, if cautiously, George spoke sternly, “We shall follow your plan and forge openly a peaceful relationship. However, I will state some of my own terms.”

Wariness swamped General Lee’s face before he nodded. An understandable reaction, but one they both would have to work to conceal.

“We will proceed as you suggest. However, for both our sakes I believe it would be prudent to have one of our men standing a little distant so we are reminded we have to be on our best behaviour. Agree?”

“Yes.” George could tell that General Lee felt this could work against them, however there was that nod of approval that informed George his…’companion’ understood the wisdom behind the tactic.

“To begin our new relationship, I feel it best for us to perhaps write down a list of interests so we have something to base our meetings on initially. I would offer to begin now but I suspect we are both overwrought and require sleep if we are to begin on a satisfying footing. Agreed?”

General Lee actually smiled. “Yes.”

“Then we shall do as you say.” Rising George rounded his desk and sized his former opponent.

“Do we have an accord?”

General Lee held his gaze and after a heartbeat of contemplation nodded curtly. Grasping his offered hand General Lee said, “We have an accord.”

George smiled despite knowing a difficult task lay ahead. Perhaps this meeting would solve a large irritating segment of his problems. Remarkably his headache was gone with the striking of their truce.

He had no illusions this would be easy but he would _make_ this work. The men, the women and the country deserved better. He could also keep a close eye on General Lee’s movements and see for himself if the man was a threat. Not that he would indulge that titbit to Major Tallmadge, for he would surely protest or even try harder to capture General Lee if he knew; no as far as the Major would know this was for what General Lee said it would be: to improve relations between the men and subsequently the fighting force.

George squeezed tightly on the last thought, as he gave one firm shake of their joined hands. He winced at General Lee’s hastily concealed flinch and hastily offered more wine before they parted to soothe his new ‘confidant’.

As they raised glasses together George prayed this would prove his fears false and free him of one set of issues.

_Providence look over us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a) Charles Lee did indeed write much ‘propaganda’ in support of American action in the lead-up to the American Revolution one of them called _‘Strictures upon A “Friendly Address to All Reasonable Americans”_. 
> 
> Source: **John Richard Alden’s** ‘General Charles Lee’, printed by Louisiana State University 1951.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Lee plays another risk, while Washington makes the first overture of a genial relationship. Major Andre receives news he can barely believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by rae_fa.

****

Charles slumped in his chair heart racing, yanking off his boots. _His plan had worked._ The relief was overwhelming and Charles allowed a small moment of victory before marshalling his composure.

He was by no means safe. The plan which was to hopefully save his skin had only just begun. Sweating slightly from the amount of wine he had consumed Charles pulled free a handkerchief and wiped his brow.

What surprised him most was how General Washington had acknowledged the unpleasant facts he had raised, going even further to concede that his conclusion was a fair assessment. Admittedly not in so many words, but the man had agreed with him and to actually attempt to forge a peaceful relationship.

Feeling dizzy with amazement and triumph, Charles rose on shaky legs and stumbled over to his low bed in the tent. Dragging off his coat, waistcoat and shirt Charles stood shivering briefly before searching out a shirt he used to sleep in.

Pulling it on Charles was grateful to see his water bottle on the table that served to keep his bowl for washing his face, hands and occasionally a wipe down.

Drinking the cool water helped alleviate the worst symptoms of the wine and Charles focused on one more necessary task before going to sleep.

He had to warn Major Andre he had been discovered, so that he would receive no letters or visitors to seek out why all communication had fallen silent. That would be disastrous for him.

Clad in only his sleep shirt, breeches and stockings Charles pushed a couple of maps out of the way on his messy table. Selecting a sheet of paper from his writing box – a beautiful carved wooden box, oak gleaming under a layer of fresh wax, vines and flowers engraved into the wood – Charles also withdrew one of his quills.

Ink close Charles next opened the Bible he had retrieved from his satchel. There, within a small space between the leather cover and hard back was a thin slip of paper. Glancing up at the entrance of his tent Charles knew he was alone for Major Bradford was still outside speaking in low tones to one of the patrolling guards.

Alert for disturbances Charles ensured the lantern was by his right hand, golden orange glow throwing a barely acceptable amount of light to work by.

Refreshing his memory with the code and the cipher he had been gifted, he began to write. Minutes flittered by, shadows leaping every now and then, as the lantern gutted in a small night breeze that snaked through the partly open tent flap. Charles ignored all this as he bent over his precious work.

Finally…finally he was finished. Exhausted by the effort to ensure his letter would match the cipher used by Major Andre, Charles blew on the letter to dry the ink. While he waited Charles replaced the cipher and code – he would hold them only long enough to ensure that if a reply did come he could at least decipher it, when that hour passed he would destroy all evidence.

Cleaning his quill Charles replaced it in his writing box along with the ink bottle. Gently easing out another quill Charles situated it next to his letter. He next rose long enough to retrieve from his military coat a spool of thread. Plucking one thin strand Charles returned to his desk.

Checking the ink was dry Charles rolled the paper as tightly as possible, tying it with the thin cloth thread. Still as gentle as a mother with a babe, the general took up the quill and very carefully inserted the rolled letter into the hollow core of the quill.

Breath heavy with importance of the task Charles took the quill and concealed it within his small oiled leather case. The oiled leather contained a few vital items Charles took with him when on the field. It had another small light slim box that contained pencils, two quills (one for a replacement), an ink bottle and a journal to record observations, as well as a few sheets of paper to transcribe orders if necessary.

Charles had aides naturally, but he did prefer to be prepared just in case. Thanking his foresight Charles slid the quill in and closed the box and put it in the oiled case. The case was put into his satchel.

Relieved the first part was over Charles cleared his table, ordering the maps as he normally did and stashed the small Bible safely in his satchel. Taking the lantern to his bed Charles sat and closed his eyes to recall the drop point. Satisfied that he remembered perfectly Charles removed his breeches and stockings then blew out the lantern and slept.

*** *** ***

A warm pink glow suffused the sky as Charles Lee urged his horse on a trot along the track boarded by a dense wooded area. His men were orderly and were already matched in the pairs that would scout the land just north of their camp.

Washington wished the men to be familiar with the land so Charles and the other officers were splitting the men and leading them on cautious forays – the enemy might be anywhere after all. News was not always fresh by the time it reached the Commander.

Charles was just relieved that the day he was ordered to follow this endeavour, was the one he needed a valid excuse to be out from camp, away from prying eyes. Namely the devious gaze of Sackett and Major Tallmadge, suspicious and in the case of the young solider eager to have him fall. This was his second excursion in only three days.

Reaching the point he considered fair for exploration – it was in actual fact the same as they had attempted previously…just before his men had descended into their unseemly brawl.

Dismounting, Charles passed the rein to one of the privates and indicated he ought to stay.

“Private Farris, please remain with Private Joyce. If there is any sign of the enemy sound the alarm and return to camp with my horse. Everyone else, you know your orders. We shall regroup in two hours.”

Bradford fell into pace with four men while Charles had another group of four. The other men filtered away leaving Charles alone with four men he recognised and trusted.

Smiling cheerfully Charles felt his natural ability to speak to the troops rise up.

“Come on men. The sooner we do this, the sooner we have an advantage over the British. Walk apart but keep each other in your sight. I shall go first as I’m familiar with the territory. However, I shan’t interfere too much as you must too become familiar.” The mixture of sternness and encouragement went over well as ever and his men straightened proudly.

“Yes sir!”

“Good, now let’s see what you are made of men.”

Charles strode into the wooded expanse with a determined flair. Trees closed in around him, the smell of bark and earth striking his nose powerfully. Inhaling the familiar scent Charles listened for his men as he weaved in-between the branches. He also maintained a vigil for red coats. Mercifully, no flashes of scarlet coats showed through the sylvan realm.

Birds flittered occasionally above him and the odd squirrel darted past and up a slender trunk. Eventually he deemed the distance was far enough to deceive the eyesight of the sharp young soldiers who were following, but at much further behind, Charles began to walk more quietly.

In another moment he took a right, walked a few paces then took a left proceeding silently until he reached a small opening with an imposing sentinel: a tall misshapen tree. Its branches were broad and heavy with green leaves; the roots sank deep into the earth, but also rose in bumps looking like the humps of a fabled sea monster. Gnarly knots dotted the trunk and its girth suggested it was ancient.

Glancing around Charles dropped to one knee to carefully sink his fingers into the soil about the tree roots. His fingers dug deep until… _There!_ Breath shaking Charles pried a rock loose from under a root to reveal a small cavity.

The small cavity and the rock which sealed it from the world would be unnoticed to the eye unless you knew where to look as he did.

Charles pried loose the priceless treasure contained within the miniature cave and carefully unravelling the oiled leather pouch Charles relaxed. There was no message. Instead he pulled his satchel to him, digging his box out and then his quill.

Tenderly he wrapped the quill in the leather pouch and replaced it in the small cavity. Pushing the rock back in Charles dispersed the earth so it looked natural.

A courier – someone Charles didn’t know – would be passing here only a few hours later. When exactly Charles knew not either, but he prayed they remained safe. His package was precious and his life was on the line.

Well, it was done anyway. Cleaning his gloved hands thoroughly Charles brushed his knees clean and adjusted his uniform. His knees for once did not protest the crouched position he had taken.

Examining his clothes for traces of his activity Charles was relieved to see there was none. Presentation counted for he must not appear in worst condition than when his men had last seen him. Perhaps it was a silly overtly cautious precaution, however Charles would rather be too careful, than have a single careless word spoken by his men, which Major Tallmadge might overhear and use to pry information out from.

Well he had done all he could for Major Andre, it was up to Andre now to find a replacement spy and for himself to save his neck.

Retracing his steps Charles soon espied his men though he had heard their footfalls long previously. Amused though also a little annoyed Charles called out to warn of his presence, as he strode up to them he had every intention to remind them of _stealth_.

*** *** ***

A tense sigh escaped Charles as he re-entered the confines of the camp with his soldiers. The nervous excitement, (though excitement seemed too pleasant a word for what he was currently feeling), that had suffused him while dropping off his message and now as he waited for a response had drained him.

Charles would be happy for a half hour reprieve. The silent presence of Major Bradford was a boon to his spirits and prevented him from growing jumpy in front of his men and other witnesses.

The General knew he would have to warn Bradford from engaging Major Tallmadge without disclosing the true reason. The same spiel he had given Washington would suffice and allow Bradford to claim innocence.

For the time-being Charles merely requested he see to the men and not bait Major Tallmadge. Bradford, good as ever, grinned and promised he wouldn’t.

Satisfied he had gained a little reprieve until he could converse privately with Bradford, Charles made for his tent to only stop in shock at the sight of General Washington waiting outside. His satchel suddenly grew heavier as if he had loaded powder and lead ball shot into the bag. Charles was acutely aware of the code and cipher and it was as if the Bible was scorching through the material, disapproving of his actions.

Washington was clearly amused by his shock and came forward with a raised eyebrow and a teasing grin. To have both aimed at him rather caused Charles a great imbalance as if on the first time on the deck of a ship rolling on the ocean. A part of him was certain Washington was taking pleasure from his discomfiture.

Floundering Charles hastily grasped at his wayward thoughts and did his best to ignore the presence of his spy materials.

“General Lee, good morning, how are you? You seem a trifle out of sorts.”

Grateful for the opening Charles managed to muster a clumsy reply, “General Washington, good morning Sir. I fancy I appear flustered due to a genuine smile and hearty greeting. Neither of which what I was expecting.”

Washington’s humour increased, “While I understand your reaction it _was_ your idea to develop a friendly relationship.”

Realising Washington could not know the contents of his satchel or indeed of his recent exploits unless he did something foolish, Charles relaxed. From Washington’s light tone Charles felt that Washington wasn’t taking undue delight at his unsettled stance. It helped soothe his ruffled feathers and allowed him to more genuinely address Washington.

“So it was General. I shall endeavour to not be shocked the next time we smile and greet each other pleasantly.”

“When you phrase our prospective greetings in such a manner General Lee, I am surprised we have succeeded in not tearing this camp apart yet.”

Charles shrugged. “Our men have tried on our behalf.”

He actually had Washington chuckling at his remark! Astonished yet hiding it better now, Charles grinned and determined to persevere as his plan dictated.

“May I enquire as to the purpose of your visit? I hadn’t thought we would see each other so soon with our duties.”

Washington grimaced even as he gestured Charles to walk with him. Charles fell into pace, causally allowing his arm to rest on his satchel while the other swung naturally.

“Alas, my duties are the reason I have come to you now. Numerous affairs call for my attention and combined with reading the reports of my officers – including your report – of your forays into the territory surrounding us, I fear we will be unable to meet for the first of our meetings for a week at least. I will not even be present at the officer’s table for the week ahead.”

Charles wanted to swear. A week may be long enough for Washington to express doubts of Charles’ plan but…wait, the General was here. Puzzled and anxious Charles nodded to show he was listening.

Washington smiled at a few soldiers who stared at them in shock. Apparently seeing the two generals infamous for their bickering walking in relevant peace was so startling that one man dropped the cloth he was cleaning his rifle with.

Charles couldn’t help but say to the soldier as they passed, “You must learn to work through distractions private.”

The man stammered a yes even as Washington smothered a cough.

“As I was saying, I couldn’t permit a week to pass. During your exercise I specifically took a stroll through the camp to fulfil two objectives. One to see if the temper of the camp could wait a week; I am sad to say that relations are very poor – the brawl wasn’t helpful in that regard. Secondly, after I came to that conclusion I wished to consider how we could meet sooner, hence my presence at your tent General Lee.”

To have his plan falling into place so smoothly despite obstacles was gratifying, though Charles knew there would be tension ahead when actually spending extended time in each other’s company.  

“So you planned another morning stroll? A wise manoeuvre, General Washington, I congratulate you.”

Washington smiled tiredly. “Thank you and yes. It is important the men begin to see us able to walk together without snapping and snarling. Even if it must be in silence initially, at least it is a beginning.”

“I agree. And perhaps we can stave off too much silence by listing topics to discuss in a week’s time as you required?”

“I trust we can stretch the listing for a week General Lee.” Washington said doubtfully.

“All else fails I can talk about my dogs until you are heartily sick of them.”

“If that is a threat then it was a poor one.” Washington seemed to relax at his words and said mildly, “Excellent proposition though General Lee. I shall not detain you however, as you must write your report. I will send a soldier to retrieve you tomorrow when I am ready to walk through the camp.”

“I shall be ready, good day General Washington.”

“Good day General Lee.”

Washington strode off leaving Charles in need of a rest _and_ a glass of wine as he peeled off his gloves from sweaty hands.

*** *** ***

_Philadelphia, Major Andre’s Abode, A week later_

Major Andre sat at his desk heedful of the requirement for secrecy. He had sent Abigail to the market for supplies just before this missive had arrived by his courier. He had an hour at least, maybe longer.

Anxious in case General Lee had unearthed something of import Andre had shut the door to his study, closed the curtains on the windows and placed a pile of papers on his desk to make it look as if he were in the middle of his general work, not agent business.

The quill was finely made, a beauty really and a terrible shame to waste upon this façade. Andre loved beautiful objects and women and for a quill to be used merely for a means of conveying hidden messages seemed a waste of a good quill. It ought to be making fine curves and swirls yet here he was, carefully easing a narrow rolled strip of paper from the elegant quill.

A fine thread tied the scroll together which Andre cut free with a stiletto knife. Unrolling the letter Andre smiled to see that Lee had used the code he had been ‘gifted’ with.

The man was good for something then.

His cipher was at hand and Andre spent a judicious time deciphering the text – he desired no mistranslation. At the finish Andre read the message in its entirety. He was hardly able to convince himself the contents of the letter were true. His initial grasp which had left him in shock was correct.

His blood ran cold. General Charles Lee had been discovered by Andre’s nemesis, Major Benjamin Tallmadge. This Major Tallmadge was clearly his counterpart in General Washington’s camp, _that_ much he could infer and the man had to be treated with due caution. The only relief was that General Washington was obviously disinclined to believe the rumour, though it could not be out of any love for Lee.

Andre struck the table with a fist, anger and disappointment cresting in a wave of fury. All his hard work for nothing! But how? General Lee was right to underscore he had done very little to draw attention to himself as a spy, he yet had to find useful information.

Why he was only speaking to General Clinton that the man had revealed little useful information so far, but to lose Lee as a source was not what Andre had desired.

Who then could have betrayed General Lee?

A nagging thought teased at his conscious. Frowning Andre re-read the letter absorbing every nuance for any clue as to how Lee had been betrayed. No one knew of Lee apart from General Clinton, Rogers and himself. As much as he disliked Rogers the man wouldn’t do anything like that and neither he nor General Clinton would betray the British effort.

The nagging whisper rose in his head so Andre rose and walked to his collection of poetry books. Selecting one he allowed his eyes to trace the words without paying attention to them, instead he permitted his mind to flow with them.

Swiftly the tide of thoughts in his mind reached the font and Andre inhaled sharply. They hadn’t been alone in the house when they had stupidly discussed General Lee openly. _Abigail had been present._

The poetry book fell from instant numb fingers. No, please no. Andre knelt to retrieve his book, head spinning. He recalled the day that General Clinton had visited and imprudently began discussing Andre’s sensitive spy work. The business had proceeded when Abigail had left after delivering wine for fortification.

Had she been there when Lee’s name was uttered by General Clinton? She had left by then, Andre reasoned. Why would she betray her new employer?

_Why shouldn’t she? What loyalty does she have to the King? Torn from her family and thrust into a house with a man she did not know._

Who else could have overheard or know? No one, no other would have been able to divine the fact that could end General Lee’s life.

Rogers wouldn’t be so subtle and General Clinton was as firm in his belief of British rule as Andre.

Andre replaced his poetry book on the round side table and opened the windows to have the light purge his mind and warm his blood.

She must have been. There was no other explanation. Abigail had ruined Andre’s continued use for Lee while signalling Lee for death if Major Tallmadge could prove his agent reliable.

Andre knew that General Lee would survive and Andre’s honour wouldn’t permit him to offer him up to Washington.

No, Lee had to be left alone, perhaps one more cautious missive then silence. Lee’s cleverness would help him get through this afresh and secure.

What about Abigail however? Andre walked to his desk and collapsed in his chair. Eyeing the evidence of his hour of contemplation Andre began putting everything away, secreting Lee’s correspondence into his military coat. He must show General Clinton as soon as feasible.

Staring silently at the papers of troop movements Andre struggled with his loyalty, his honour and his compassion. The fate that awaited Abigail was an evil one and for what? For some misplaced loyalty she showed towards the Americans?

Was it even true loyalty and not one motivated from a desire to see her family again, or a memory of her former owner who may have treated her well?

Andre did not know nor did he wish to see a good woman thrown to the noose, when so many bad ones walked free. He liked Abigail, a fondness for her had been growing steadily. Why should she suffer trapped as she was?

Her act had been brave, daring and ultimately foolish yet Andre admired her firm resolve. No! Andre swallowed as he sat upright as he heard the door and Abigail’s voice as she spoke to the footman.

The hour for his decision had come. Rising from his desk Andre walked calmly to the door to call Abigail.

Her happy face appeared and Andre’s gut twisted.

“Abigail, could you please cancel supper. I must work late and should check in with General Clinton for any further updates.” Andre smiled cheekily, charm a breathy aroma around him.

“I would rather not be surprised tomorrow with a tide of reports that ruin all my good work.”

Abigail struggled not to laugh, lips twitching. “Of course Major. Shall I have a small selection waiting for you when you return?”

“Oh I wouldn’t bother, recall how the general kept me a whole night merely to discuss the docks? I fear this may be the same again, my poor head.”

Abigail did laugh then and blushing nodded and retreated to the kitchen.

Andre’s heart was beating furiously as he saw her go. His choice had been enacted.

Too many good men and women had died already. He wouldn’t throw another innocent to the hungry maw of death, not yet.

_Please don’t spy anymore Abigail; I may not be able to protect you at your next infraction._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a) I used Mount Vernon to decide on the best method that would suit General Lee sending secret correspondence to Major Andre:  
> http://www.mountvernon.org/george-washington/the-revolutionary-war/spying-and-espionage/spy-techniques-of-the-revolutionary-war/
> 
> Quick yet fascinating with pointers to more material to read.
> 
> (b) I tried doing some research into rifles in the era of the American Revolution, admittedly there are only two throw-away lines regarding this in the chapter, and even as I kept it as general as possible, I liked to be as accurate as feasible.  
> I found a couple of sites online:
> 
> http://www.thefirearms.guide/guns/early-firearm-history  
> See ‘Rifles’ section in relation to the American Revolution.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flintlock  
> (Yes Wikipedia, but it was useful coupled with the site above & below.)
> 
> http://www.militaryfactory.com/smallarms/guns-1700-1799.asp
> 
> Apologies if I was obviously wrong!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Washington begin bonding properly. Ben and Washington’s staff nearly have apoplexies as they witness this strange ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Turn belongs to AMC, the figures to history.
> 
> Beta-read by rae_fa.

A week could last an age of men or pass faster than a summer day spent with your sweetheart. Charles was in the odd position of not knowing which end of the spectrum he stood vis-à-vis he and Washington.

The week had passed as they planned, with the two mismatched generals taking a stroll through the camp each day. The event usually occurred after breakfast before either general became weighed down with paperwork and the overseeing of their troops, not to mention staff meetings.

The positive element for Charles has been the surprised expressions of Washington’s close circle of officers as they witnessed an event hereunto unknown to man or woman. To see General Washington and General Lee converse without going for the jugular was astonishing and apparently disturbing by the suspicious glances he received from Baron von Steuben.

Charles was worried the shrewd Baron would divine his true motives and unlike the still young and rash Major Tallmadge, act rationally yet deadlier like a viper.

So his amusement at the bafflement of Washington’s aides and their consequent disappointment in not seeing a furore was tempered by Steuben’s watchful eye. Tallmadge was red in the cheeks as he viewed them touring the camp, but he dared not approach as it was within their privilege to review the men.

His own aides were also bewildered though they at least managed more decorum and when caught staring on the second day would stridently become occupied when they saw the odd duo on the following days. Major Bradford was puzzled but obliging; Charles had warned him to stay away from Talmadge and consequently Bradford was behaving sweet as a plum to an increasingly paranoid Tallmadge; it was a happily inspiring sight to behold.

Now, however, came the first true test of their new truce and Charles was anxious to begin, pressing harder for he feared Major Tallmadge would attempt to gain ground with General Washington. The sooner he could safely begin to wriggle his way under Washington’s defences, the lesser the opportunity for Tallmadge’s influence to rise in power once more and that must not happen.

Washington’s anger at being defied had to be maintained and eventually Charles would nurture that anger into resignation that the boy clearly had no idea what he was doing. This would suffice in creating a distance between Washington and Tallmadge, so any credence in the Major’s accusations of General Lee were considered flawed at worst, baseless at best.

Charles had no issue with Tallmadge remaining Washington’s spy, or whatever position the man held, as long as that attention shifted from him to another direction. He also could not underestimate Sackett, but there Charles felt he may be fortunate for the gentleman struck him as one who was not only deeply admiring of Washington, but would see reason quicker than Tallmadge and therefore abate in pursuing Charles.

He just prayed Steuben did not become a problem…

“General Lee, are you well? You were lost in contemplation.”

Starting Charles flushed at Washington’s curious expression. No concern showed for they hadn’t become _that_ friendly yet, however the aura of distaste at speaking to him was far less – a very good sign.

Charles shrugged and stuck as near to the truth as he could in his reply, editing the parts that were less flattering – and more damning – of himself. The semi-truth after all would be easier to recall and ring more persuasively to General Washington. It might even find an answering echo in the man’s own worries.

“I was thinking of the Officer’s supper tonight General. It will be the first time we have to sit together and practise our new-found truce in a more cordial setting. Yet it hardly will be a cordial setting. I am sure you have seen the glares and open astonishment of both our aides. We have, if you pardon me, a…difficult task ahead. How will we manage to set a good example untested in front of a hostile crowd?”

Washington frowned and slowed their walk until he stopped by a tent that belonged to the surgeon. The sickly smell of herbs with the sharp aroma of blood struck their noses, but both men hardly winced. They had seen far too many battlefields to grimace at some blood.

The day was warm with the sun casting a scarlet-orange glow as it set, followed by a few pink streaks which suddenly leapt up into the sky. Washington observed the view as he considered Charles’ comments.

“I share your views that we have an awkward task ahead in familiarising ourselves without falling about. Our week together has been brief and unfortunately weak on conversation due to constant interruptions by my aides.”

Eyes bright with determination gazed at him and Charles was grateful that there was no difficulty in pretending to be worried – he was!

“However, the reactions we have seen by merely walking _politely_ in each other’s company have convinced me even more of your argument – how shocking we should agree General Lee!”

The remark teased a laugh from Charles and he flushed in surprise. Washington seemed surprised too but chuckled only to grow serious.

“It shouldn’t have been a shock but was, so tonight will work…it must. To have allowed our personal disagreement to reach the stage where even walking calmly together attracts such attention is poor indeed. I am ready for tonight to succeed; are you?”

“Yes of course,” said Charles astonished yet deeply relieved. The semi-truth had revealed similar concerns to his and brought them closer to their shared goal of a friendship of sorts. The added benefit here naturally, undiscovered by Washington, of Charles’ neck being safe.

“Then we shall not permit their hostility to overcome us.” Washington rolled his shoulders and gestured for them to continue, “Lead on General Lee for we had best decide on a topic or two in case we have to salvage the supper.”

Washington’s warm reassuring voice washed over Charles and this time actually brought comfort with what he had said instead of annoyance. It was disturbing, even as the words were the ones Charles wished to hear.

Doing as bid, Charles thought tactically of the two best topics they could use to steer conversation to safe waters. As he did, at the back of his mind he knew that Major Andre must have received his message, what would the man do now?

*** *** ***

_Philadelphia, General Clinton’s residence_

Dining with General Clinton hadn’t been on Andre’s agenda for the evening, yet since he had arrived just as supper was to be served he had no choice.

After an admittedly light, enjoyable meal Andre was relieved when General Clinton nodded at him. Following the General to his private study Andre did not feel safe to speak until the servant had left them with glasses of fine red wine.

Even then Andre leant on the door listening avidly for any eavesdroppers.

“What on earth-” General Clinton’s exclamation was foiled by Andre casting a fierce look at the man.

The general shut up mercifully but by his flushed cheeks and tight mouth Andre knew that if his explanation wasn’t sufficient, he would be facing charges for his flagrant of lack of respect shown to his commanding officer.

Listening once more Andre was satisfied no-one was kneeling by the door. Confidence a little restored Andre moved hurriedly to General Clinton’s side and dropping his voice low spoke.

“General Lee has been discovered.”

The colour drained from General Clinton’s face. “Good God Major, are you certain? What happened?”

Knowing he was forgiven for his previous behaviour by the General’s reaction, Andre swallowed past the sickness in his belly.

“General Lee himself wrote a coded message to me, describing how he was discovered. By pure chance he overheard Major Tallmadge and a man called Sackett discussing their suspicions. They had apparently tried to entrap him.”

His fellow countryman paled further yet refrained from interrupting, merely nodding to show he followed.

“Thankfully they failed and at least for the time-being, General Washington is furious with Major Tallmadge’s attempt to prove General Lee is a traitor.”

“General Washington does not believe this Major Tallmadge? Why? General Lee and he are not on good terms and are the furthest from friends I can imagine. Who is this Major Tallmadge?”

Andre smiled wanly at the barrage of question from his superior.

“Perhaps the method used upset General Washington? Or maybe he doesn’t currently wish for open signs of division in his camp? I cannot say for certain why. As for Major Tallmadge, he is my counterpart in the American camp.”

“Damn fellow.”

“And clever, we must be more careful. As General Lee wrote, he has done nothing to overtly draw suspicion to himself. Therefore, someone on our side must have let it slip. We have a spy or traitor in our ranks.”

_Abigail._

The knowledge of what would happen to her if he said anything was terrible.

General Clinton leaned forward, voice a hoarse whisper. “They are much the same in this blasted country. Do you know who?”

“I am not sure yet Sir, but I am working on it.”

General Clinton examined him carefully before saying, “Good…but what shall we do about General Lee?”

Andre wanted to slump in relief that his façade had been good enough to fool General Clinton. However, that would reveal he was hiding something so he maintained a cool if slightly ruffled composure.

“I urge we leave him be Sir. He is lying low and if he has common sense and a dose of self-preservation is buttering up General Washington.”

“Can we trust General Lee to be silent?”

“General Lee will not betray us Sir. To betray us, would be to betray himself too. If I may, if we implicate General Lee then we deter future prospective spies: men and women who can be turned to see the justness of the British cause.”

Determined to convince the General of his argument Andre took a drink of his wine to refresh his senses.

“To have it known and seen that we cannot keep faith with our spies the minute they are not even fully revealed…disastrous Sir.”

His superior grunted and drained his glass. “You are correct of course Major Andre. Our honour mustn’t be stained.”

Rising from his seat, the General retrieved the wine bottle and actually poured for them. Savouring the flavour General Clinton’s mood seemed to reassert itself and with a bright gleam in his eyes and mouth curving into a smile, the older soldier said, “Well, if I know you Major Andre, you have a replacement waiting for us. Tell me, who is he?”

Sipping from his restocked glass Andre allowed a small lowering of his defences. He was in safer waters now.

“You recall our recent conversation on the topic?”

“Indeed, but surely you do not mean to proceed with pursuing General Arnold? The man is an admirer of General Washington and loyal to his country.”

“So was General Lee but I succeeded there.” Looking steadily at General Clinton, Andre had never felt so sure of his conviction as he did now.

“Yet all men – and women – have a price. If a man won’t turn on convictions then his vices must suffice. Consequently, we discover General Arnold’s weakness and then exploit them for our purpose.”

Andre summoned once more his persuasive charm. “I mentioned how General Arnold’s actions at Saratoga were trampled by General Gates, well such resentment builds. It will not be the last time General Arnold is spurned so. His vanity has time to fester aided by the injuries to his tarnished glory.”

“But how, how will you turn him?”

“I met a young lady at a party recently who could aid us in that endeavour.”

“Who?”

“Miss Peggy Shippen, her family entertained the rebels when they occupied this city. General Arnold even stayed in her father’s residence. He would not have forgotten her.”

“You are mad Major. Why would the girl even agree to assist us in obtaining the General?”

How incredulously the General spoke! Andre nearly laughed.

“I have begun drawing Miss Shippen in and she is a staunch supporter of the British, a Loyalist in fact. Before long I will be able to convince Miss Shippen that assisting us will be to win a priceless advantage.”

General Clinton shook his head but his eyes were bright and voice lighter than it had been. “The ardour of youth never ceases to amuse me. Continue with your plan Major Andre. Let us pray we have General Arnold soon on our side.”

Recognising a dismissal Andre rose and drained his glass. “Thank you General Clinton. Do you have any orders before I leave?”

“None, but as always whatever you need simply ask.” General Clinton walked to the door but paused, face thoughtful. “I do wonder how General Lee will turn this to his advantage. Almost makes me wish to see him. It would be quite a sport to watch – ha!”

Andre winced at the slap on his back.

“Perhaps while you are serenading Miss Shippen and General Arnold, General Lee will do us the favour of distracting General Washington - a serenading of a different sort naturally. The man might prove useful yet!”

“Yes Sir, it would be an excellent state of affairs. Who knows, General Lee may be successful.”

Shaking his head at the mere suggestion General Lee’s actions could yet benefit them Andre walked with General Clinton to the entrance where a servant saw him out.

The cooler night air enlivened his mind and Andre stood for a moment contemplating. One plan had been destroyed by his too clever counter-part and his next plan was barely started, though he was nurturing it as much as possible.

A couple of soldiers passed by saluting sharply, while further on the street a carriage rolled along possibly for a late party. Following in its wake Andre dearly hoped his ploy of employing Miss Shippen would not backfire and a small part of him did suddenly agree with General Clinton.

If General Lee could distract General Washington in his efforts to save his skin it might distract Major Tallmadge…long enough for Andre to pry General Benedict Arnold to the British.

*** *** ***

_Camp_

Charles entered the room reserved for the officers to dine in that evening with great reservation and anxiety. He did feel boosted by Washington’s calm assertion that they would win over their detractors, so the thrill coursing through him showed only in the stiff set of shoulders. Charles was comforted by the undeniable knowledge that Washington would fight _with_ him against his own aides.

All he had to do was ensure he didn’t let his mouth speak without thinking.

Well damn.

Sighing Charles sat at his normal seat only for Billy Lee to stand beside him with a barely concealed glare.

“General Lee, the Commander wishes you to sit nearer to him.”

Major Tallmadge who had just entered halted abruptly and cried, “ _What?”_

Charles was just as startled but unlike Tallmadge was able to refrain from fitting like a child.

“Contain yourself Major Tallmadge. Very well Billy, where am I to sit?” His measured tone surprised both men and Tallmadge openly glared with suspicion.

Charles resisted from smirking and focused on not reacting beyond neutrally to Tallmadge. Billy meanwhile, credit where was due, merely led him to a seat two down and to the left from where Washington normally resided. It was an obvious ploy to try and keep Charles near him to defuse any potential situations. Charles was also shrewd and paranoid enough to add, ‘just in case Tallmadge’s accusations have any grounding at least General Lee is as near as possible.’

As Charles took his new seat opposite a riled Major Tallmadge his private wondering of who would be sitting next to Washington was answered. A wounded General Arnold appeared. Limping very slowly and leaning heavily on his cane, beads of sweat marking his brow the tall, statuesque general walked painfully to the seat next to Charles and beside Washington.

It was the first time since his injury and operation at the hands of the surgeon that the general was well enough to attend one of Washington’s suppers.

Charles concealed his wince and crushed whatever sympathy rose in his breast for the man’s wound. Charles well remembered General Arnold’s first entrance to the dining room where Arnold had ridiculed him at this very table. That it was in defence of Washington was moot in Charles’ opinion.

Yet while he disliked General Arnold and had no intention of being friends, Charles knew he could ill afford to continue their enmity. There was no need to be friendly, merely polite. Charles hadn’t expected such a trial tonight! Determined to persevere Charles saw the smirk on Major Tallmadge’s face and hastily reminded himself of the stakes before his mouth got there first.

_If you permit yourself to be infuriated by Major Tallmadge’s expressions and General Arnold’s presence you will have a noose around your neck by suppertime next Friday. Save your ire for later fool. Looks and words must be ignored or deflected, not catered to._

Repressing the urge to strangle the Major he repeated his harsh reminder as he watched the other officers filter in. Baron von Steuben unfortunately was to Washington’s right. Charles thought of a court martial and sweated under his stiff collar and too warm necktie.

Finally Washington appeared a smile wreathing his face. Striding to his seat the Commander greeted them warmly and launched into saying grace before supper could be served.

It was as Charles was sampling his meal, conscious of General Arnold’s intense frown and Tallmadge’s scowl that Washington surprisingly addressed him.

“General Lee, you never finished telling me about Spado. Is he in fine form after his misadventure with the tree?”

One of Washington’s aides as normal translated softly to Steuben as the gentleman didn’t speak English but communicated through French.

Charles nearly choked on his mouthful at the astonished expressions that leapt into being on Baron von Steuben and Tallmadge’s faces. General Arnold actually spluttered, “You have spoken of Lee’s dogs?”

Washington stiffened, his friendly demeanour slipping somewhat.

“Indeed we have General Arnold. Did you think _General_ Lee and I would walk the camp in silence? While the men have been rowdy and my presence suddenly surprisingly indispensable the moment we inspect the camp, General Lee and I have managed to cobble fragments of conversation together.”

Drinking his wine was preferable to displaying the triumph and pleasure curling through his gut at Arnold’s minor dressing down. Revenge was rich like the wine he gulped to push that stubborn fragment of meat down. The subtle hint as to why Washington was suddenly on…peaceful…terms with his former nemesis was a beautiful touch.

The admonishment was felt clearly by Major Tallmadge who flushed with shame as well as indignation. Charles wondered at the nature of his most recent heated disagreements with Washington, and there must have been considering what Tallmadge suspected him of – naturally the confidential Commander wouldn’t inform Lee of the contents, even if Charles was meant to know of their estrangement.

Yet he wondered and pondered how to use this titbit for his own benefit.  

Arnold’s hands curled on the table but he said, “My apologies General Washington. I was surprised that you have spoken of such familiar subjects.”

Charles decided now was appropriate to intervene and provide Washington aid as a thank you. Every kind gesture was a bonus for him in Washington’s estimation of his character.

“An understandable feeling General Arnold.” Arnold’s open shock of being addressed without anger showed and the man’s clenched jaw was formidable.

“We have spoken of my irascible Spado. He was accompanying me when he decided to chase a squirrel which naturally shot up its tree. The dog forgot his small size and was barking tremendously at the bottom, scampering about. Unfortunately he landed on a sharp broken twig at the base of the tree and cut his paw. Mercifully I caught Spado before he could do further damage.”

Turning to Washington, Charles kept an eye on Steuben who was following his tale with a neutral expression. His lips twitched to indicate that he was examining his story at all angles as well; unnerving if Steuben decided Charles worthy of study.

“In answer to your question Commander, Spado is recovering well. The cut on his paw is healed, alas remaining tender; therefore I am carrying him about when outside my tent.”

“Poor Spado. Hopefully this encounter will teach him some sense.”

“I rather doubt that Commander. Spado has always had a lively temperament and eager to follow me everywhere. More adventures await him I am sure.”

Washington’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I cannot believe such a small fluffy animal can cause so much trouble.”

The genuine rapport was frightening if promising. Charles found it hard not to become at ease and off guard. He still disliked the General after all.

Yet he was unable not to reply in good humour where his dogs were concerned. “I am happy to lend Spado to you for a day or maybe three as long as I can see him. _That_ should be ample time for you to discover Spado’s character.”

Washington raised an eyebrow.

“If that is a threat it is a poor one General Lee. Very well, I accept your challenge for let it not be said I am coward.”

That was unexpected and Charles found himself smiling, in truth amused and accepting with good spirit the banter.

“I do not back down from a challenge either, so I shall bring Spado to you when he is no longer sensitive to traipsing about.”

Baron von Steuben unexpectedly commented, his French flawless as he was translated into English by his companion. Charles managed to pick up some of his French for he had used to speak the tongue fluently himself. It had been a number of years however since had had last needed to use the language frequently so it was a struggle to get the full meaning.

“Since it seems you have both decided to not refuse a challenge then I shall gladly oversee the contest as I am curious as to who will be the victor. If you accept that is, Generals? There has been no mention of prizes I should point out.”

“If you are stating, admirably delicately, Baron that General Lee and I are similarly flawed I shan’t dispute it.” Washington glanced at him.

“Do you accept Baron von Steuben’s role General Lee?”

Still buoyed by the exchange though a little insulted of how Steuben had said he and Washington were alike, Charles decided this was an opportunity to prove he was not a threat to the clever Baron.

It could mean a dissenting voice adding to Washington’s doubts, resulting in another layer of protection between him and Major Tallmadge.

General Arnold said with a thick voice, “I favour the Commander.”

The bitter twist to his mouth went unnoticed by Washington who nodded in good cheer and said thank you before immediately checking the rest of the table.

Charles met the hot stare and his stomach flipped. A strange realisation stole over him and Charles wondered with some incredulity if General Arnold was jealous.

Of what?

The two of them conversing without slandering each other? General Washington speaking even slightly favourably to his former dissenter? Events to be astonished by, furious and wary by, but _jealous_?

Was the General so desperate for recognition from Washington? If so Arnold was a bigger threat than potentially Tallmadge. Let them not form a duo. Charles knew he had to be careful so returned the stare with a cheerful smile.

He had to show the lunatic next to him he desired not to be _friends_ with the Commander, merely on friendly terms – a world of difference. Tallmadge was stewing by the pink colour of his cheeks so Charles savoured that minor victory.

The more Tallmadge showed his ungentlemanly behaviour the better for Charles. On guard on three fronts Charles met Washington’s grin with a raised glass and threw himself at the mercy of Washington’s happy banter that had so discomforted him before.

Comfort be damned, his hide was at risk with this triangle of men all set at him for one reason or another. Doing his best to steer the conversation to safer waters, Charles resisted the urge to adjust his jacket. Instead he focused on Steuben’s question.

After all, there was the interesting matter of a prize to be discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a) From what I can gather Baron von Steuben did not speak English but communicated through French? If I am incorrect please do say so. :
> 
> http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/friedrich-von-steuben-arrives-at-valley-forge
> 
> http://www.ushistory.org/valleyforge/served/steuben.html
> 
> (b) I have played a little with history and included some individuals who may not have been at the camp at the time.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and Lee persevere in mending their relations. However, Lee’s machinations aren’t the ones abounding the place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** Beta-read by rae_fa.

George was relieved to step into his tent and the relative privacy it afforded. His day had been busy followed by a difficult supper in themes.

Billy met him as he crossed the threshold with a warm greeting. Pulling off his cloak and handing it to Billy was the first step in relaxing.

“Thank you Billy. I must finish one paper before retiring to bed. Please however ready my things.”

“Very good Sir.” Quickly Billy left and George surveyed his desk ruefully.

The reports on his desk never grew smaller, instead when one was dealt with others accumulated. Occasionally George wondered if there was a conspiracy but no, this was one of the many necessary side effects of war.

Moving the lantern closer and the candle stand to his desk George set to work. His pen scratched against the paper as George hurried to finish the nagging detail of further supplies. Baron von Steuben had been insisting on proper sanitation and had presented the Commander with a list of items which would assist in setting up the proper arrangements.

Yet as he wrote, the supper played in his mind, musing that the biggest surprise had been that he could actually enjoy extended conversation with General Lee.

He did not particularly like the man yet, however George was fair enough to admit that when they confined their resentments they had a natural rapport. It was altogether a rather frightening and disturbing development.

However, they had succeeded as George strongly believed they would so he wouldn’t complain. He would recover from the shock of actually holding pleasant civil discourse with Lee. Now if that continued he would need a shot of some strong spirit to steady his nerves, but he suspected General Lee would be in equal need of such tonic so he wouldn’t be alone.

What would their aides say then?

His aides! George cracked a small smile at the astonishment of his officers’, especially Major Tallmadge’s frustrated expression. If anything they would probably faint from shock. Hopefully Major Tallmadge would withhold his harsh accusations.

Dipping his quill into the ink pot George felt a pang of regret. He did not wish to bait the boy, but he did wish to show him that unsupported accusations were not the right approach.

Whether General Lee was a traitor or not, George couldn’t guess without much prejudice and he hesitated to trust to his intelligence officer who had purposefully disobeyed him.

No, for the meantime George would play along with General Lee and reap the rewards of a friendly or at least mellow relationship. The men’s morale mattered most for it fed into a successful war. If the French saw or suspected no division, then the Americans could be certain of allies to hinder the British.

So George would be nice with Lee and together they would struggle to form a working union. Also, if General Lee was working _with_ him the man wouldn’t have the time to be a traitor if he was one.

Marvellous really, for George won either way.

There was only one question he would like to ask General Lee based on tonight’s observations, though it could wait until they were in private.

Signing the document George sanded the paper and called one of the soldiers to carry it instantly to the Baron.

Deciding it was high time to retire, George went into his sleeping quarters.

*** *** ***

 

Ben was livid as he paced in Sackett’s hut. His best friend was watching him quietly as he cleaned his pistol. The calm efficient swipe of the cloth was deeply irritating and personally offensive to Ben.

How could Caleb be so calm when the world was shattering about them? Sackett was tinkering with a new gadget that Ben couldn’t immediately identify.

"Am I the only one upset by General Lee’s actions last night?”

His question caused both occupants merely to raise an eyebrow and Caleb to hum non-committedly.

“How can you be so calm Caleb when General Lee is manipulating Commander Washington?”

His friend stopped cleaning his weapon and putting both aside on the crate he was perched on Caleb levelled a look at Ben. It was one that meant he better listen. Ben tensed, nerves frayed.

“Calm Benny boy? I’m not calm, just thinking. You tried speaking to General Washington and that didn’t work, then you attempted to frame Lee and _that_ brought Commander Washington’s wrath upon you.”

Caleb paused to check he was following. Ben nodded.

“Seems to me that your methods aren’t working.”

“So you suggest I do nothing while that snake, that traitor catches Washington’s ear?”

“No Major Tallmadge,” Sackett said from behind them.

Ben turned to Sackett who peered at them through his glasses.

Seeing he had their undivided attention Sackett continued.

“Mr Brewster is correct that we have been unsuccessful so far and the Commander is rightfully angry. To pursue your present course would be madness and end in disaster. For the moment I would advise that we watch and wait.”

Was he surrounded by mad men?

“That is nothing Mr Sackett.”

Caleb snorted and said, “No it isn’t. I bargain there is more to the plan than the sneaky man is saying.”

“How perceptive of you Mr Brewster. Your friend is correct. Currently whatever General Lee’s true motivation might be, he has effectively silenced any possible treachery.”

“What-”

“If you would let me finish Major?”

Embarrassed Ben inclined his head and murmured an apology.

“The Commander and General Lee are attempting to heal division among the men, as they feel their poor conduct has directly led to disruption, not a wholly baseless accusation. Since General Lee must now be pleasant and friendly with the Commander he can hardly be flitting about writing seditious letters or passing sensitive information.”

Understanding dawned and Ben gasped. “He will be at General Washington’s beck and call. General Lee will not have the time to be absent for long.”

Sackett smiled and it was a smug one. “You see Major Tallmadge? If General Lee is a traitor he cannot act for some time, if he is innocent then no other harm comes from this play.”

“He could be attempting to woo Washington into a false sense of peace,” remarked Caleb.

“Then I shall be there to prevent Lee from succeeding.”

“Do be quiet Major,” said Sackett. “If you must sulk in the shadows do as I have advised and watch peacefully. As Mr Brewster said, your previous methods only angered the Commander and sundered him from you. To regain his confidence you must obey him and wait for a more definite sign from General Lee.”

Caleb made a noise of agreement and plucked his knife from his belt and examined the sharp tip.

“We will be there Benny boy, keeping the Commander safe – unless you make him send you away by being stupid.”

Ben threw up his hands in anger. “Fine, as much as I detest the idea I shall wait.”

Slamming his hands on the worktable Ben glared at them both. “If this harms the Commander we will all be to blame.”

Sackett and Caleb just sighed and stayed silent so Ben sat on a chair to brood. How could he watch without interfering? Yet now he had to. Ben wasn’t sure if he could and he prayed Abigail discovered something more solid soon.

*** *** ***

Two days later found a reluctant Charles handing over his precious boy to the Commander. While he longed to win he missed his Spado before the pup had even left him. How would he be treated?

Washington must have caught some of his worry for he smiled gently.

“Spado will be perfectly safe with me General Lee. I shall spoil him as you have set out in this impressive three page document.”

He stroked Spado’s back who barked excitedly and turned around in a circle begging for more.

“And it is not as if you shan’t see him over the next three days. If he is a handful as you say, I will be the one in trouble.”

The jovial tone of the Commander’s voice was deceptively comforting so Charles nodded and sternly told himself not to cry like a child. Petting Spado who yipped and licked his hand, eyes bright with adoration Charles said to him, “Now General Washington shall be caring for you for the next three days Spado. I will visit as often as possible. Do not run off now!”

Spado was sitting quietly, head cocked and expression serious as if truly understanding his owner. In Charles’ opinion his dog did understand everything he said.

“ _Good_ boy.”

Spado yipped and wagged his tail furiously before padding off to examine every item in Washington’s tent.

Straightening carefully, Charles glimpsed Washington quickly stop smiling. Surely there hadn’t been anything suspicious in his comments to Spado?

_Of course there isn’t you fool._

Cursing his paranoia Charles tried staying focused on Spado.

“Thank you Commander. I look forward to being able to see Spado.”

“But not me?” remarked Washington with great humour.

“Would you believe me General, if I said yes?”

“I would have the surgeon check your head in case of knocks. Perhaps after longer time spent in each other’s company we will be able to appreciate each other more.”

Charles was startled. His plan had been to become friendly with Washington not friends, yet the Commander seemed to be implying the exact opposite – or was he? It was difficult to tell without knowing the man better.

“Life is strange indeed, so who knows General Washington.”

“I advise not suggesting so to our aides. Apoplexy is neither nice nor sudden gambling on the likelihood of the prospect.”

An altogether marvellous scenario, almost worth the agony of being friends with Washington to see Tallmadge’s mottled hue.

“I assure you of my silence on the matter. Now back to the situation at hand. What does Baron von Steuben say?”

Washington addressed Steuben and his translator.

“The exchange has been done. As agreed Baron I will expect your company this afternoon once Spado and I have adjusted.”

Steuben looked between them then nodded. The Prussian seemed amused.

“I am content, until later gentlemen.” The observant gaze ruffled Charles but he stayed calm, returning Steuben’s bow as did Washington.

Once alone Washington spent a moment watching Spado sniff his desk.

Spado marked the chair actually causing Washington to laugh pleasantly. A spark of happiness and gratefulness for Washington’s acceptance of Spado leapt up within Charles. Almost immediately Charles was unsettled, bewildered at his happiness, for while normally any man or woman who appreciated his dogs was welcome, Charles wasn’t sure if he wanted to feel such about Washington.

“We appear to be alone at last General Lee,” said Washington into the silence broken only by Spado’s explorations, “Are you free to have our first conversation without witnesses?”

“Free and willing General Washington, to begin in earnest. I am eager to prove that when left alone we are capable of _not_ strangling each other.”

Washington winced. “I pray that we can control ourselves for the stakes are high. I wish to see dissension quieted not roused further. Come, we shall have some tea and conversation before we are interrupted.”

“A very optimistic view Commander,” replied Charles as he obeyed Washington’s gesture to take a seat at a small table not littered with various maps and troop movements.

“Considering that we had Baron von Steuben insert himself smoothly into our little banter only two evenings ago, to say nothing about our walks, I hold out nearly no hope of not being interrupted at some juncture.”

A laugh escaped before Charles could stop it. Minor panic flared in his breast even as he maintained a cheerful expression. He would have to be careful of being caught out by Washington’s frustratingly amusing comments.

If he was too free and let slip any secrets…Charles repressed a shudder, instead watching as Washington ducked into a separate part of the tent to summon Billy Lee.

*** *** ***

Silence fell once Billy had served them what passed for tea in the camp. Lee was sat opposite him, eyes set resolutely on his cup as if it held secrets of General Clinton’s latest movements.

George wondered at their awkwardness, for they had managed to speak reasonably freely only a few minutes ago. Yet perhaps it was because they now had to actually talk about each other without witnesses that gave rise to concern.

The temptation to submit to their previous disagreements would be strong. Such reticence hinted was appalling in both of them and the thought roused George to speak, only to beaten by General Lee.

“You may be surprised that while this was my plan I have no idea what to speak about; unless we resort to the list you suggested we draw up?”

Lee looked rueful and bit wary. George found it amusing to find the instigator of their current predicament stymied.

“Ah sticking to our list may seem ridiculous, but unless we both commiserate on our inability to unearth suitable topics for conversation naturally, I am not sure what else we _can_ do.”

Lee cracked a smile and said, “No, let us leave that for when we stumble to a painful halt and tempers are close to fraying. We can then shock our aides when they come seeking us.”

“You do like ruffling feathers General Lee.”

“Some feathers are far too easy to ruffle Commander Washington, others barely feel the breeze.”

“Point excellently made General Lee.” That came out harsher than George intended and he cursed his own temper, normally well harnessed until it came to Lee.

Lee shrugged and actually commented apologetically, “I meant no offence…”

There was an awkward delivery underlying the apology which George welcomed. Its very presence felt like truth.

“The truth General Lee, can be harsh to swallow, yet accepted it must be.” Catching Lee’s gaze, George smiled.

“Perhaps we better stick to truths that are not so hard on either of us?”

Lee relaxed and nodded.

“I hate to admit that you are right but you are right.”

Perhaps this was a hallucination because had General Lee _agreed with him?_

“Then please allow me to hasten our conversation on, because if we continue agreeing with each other the shock may finish us before our aides ever appear.”

Lee openly laughed making it the second time in his presence. At the sound Spado came running over wagging his tail and yipping. General Lee grinned widely and picking up his dog petted the excited animal. Looking up there was definite mischief in his eyes– guarded mischief, but there nonetheless.

“I submit to your will Commander, but you are neglecting Spado. Here you are.”

General Lee rose and rounding the table deposited his dog into George’s lap. Bright eyes scrutinised him and began sniffing the buttons on his coat.

“Hello Spado, be a good dog now and sit on my lap.” Spado yipped but obeyed as long George petted him.

“He is delightful General Lee; he seems a very unlikely terror.”

Lee sat back down watching them both. “We shall see Commander.”

They would, but George now had the opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging him since the Officer’s supper.

“Do you speak French?”

He saw the surprised expression blossom on General Lee’s face.

“I did a very long time ago, for I was quite the polyglot,” said General Lee fondly, clearly reminiscing.

“Was?”

“Oh I still speak and read a variety of languages but it has been a few years since I practised some, a smattering of Polish and fluent French for instance. As with many skills in life, if you do not practise them regularly they begin to tarnish.”

Lee flexed the fingers on his right hand to ease stiffness from an old wound George believed.

“Why do you ask?” The casualness was fake for suspicion clouded Lee’s voice. As if realising that a flush stained the General’s cheeks.

Why should Lee be suspicious? It was an interesting reaction though George couldn’t see a particular reason for it. Major Tallmadge would undoubtedly inform him of a number of reasons each more scandalous than the last.

“You appeared to understand a little of what Baron von Steuben was saying both at the Officer’s supper and just now, yet you haven’t offered your services as translator, but kept them secret?”

“Observant Commander, yes I have understood some of Baron von Steuben’s speech. As to why I have I haven’t offered my services, why would I? Upon his arrival he was cloistered with you and from there his instructions have proceeded. Your aides have attended to him so sufficiently my presence weren’t needed.”

General Lee’s bluntness hadn’t changed, however the tone had. George could see that Lee was aiming for truth without insult. He had merely stated fact and attempted not to throw accusations at George.

The man was also correct, even if Lee had offered, George would not have accepted his services. Steuben also had quickly become set against Lee in the prevailing atmosphere.

George nodded his head in agreement and Lee briefly smiled before continuing.

“I also never meant to keep it a secret Commander. We simply have never conversed so…so…”

“Civilly?”

“As you say General Washington: so civilly for me to even share what skills I possess or possessed.”

The reason was probable and George found himself convinced at least partly by it. Maybe he could use Lee’s ability to understand French to tie Lee closer to the cause. If the French joined America in an alliance the more French speakers the better.

“For that I am regretful. It is a talent that could have proven useful. How far deteriorated is your French? Could you speak it fluently again if tested?”

Lee stared at him and said, “If pressed I believe I could reanimate my French to speak, read and write it robustly enough, but Baron von Steuben has two helpers and since we aren’t fighting the French it seems a waste of my time. If I may say so, this is not the Seven Years War.”

In one sentence Lee had struck closer to the truth than George was comfortable with at present. Heart racing George quickly picked up Lee’s reference to the French war waged on American land.

“Now that is an era I haven’t thought of for a long time. We both once wore the King’s colours and now here we sit opposed to everything the King stands for.”

“Traitors to the crown,” said Lee with a bitter twist to his lips.

“Do you regret it?” The sharpness was uncalled for George knew, though the idea General Lee might have regrets was alarming. Major Tallmadge’s warnings for a moment took a firmer shape.

General Lee stiffened yet astonishingly restrained his temper, cheeks red and voice sour.

“No, only in that my sister is so far away that I haven’t spoken to her in person since this war began. If we win then I may not see her for years longer.”

The palpable loss struck George for he suffered whenever away from his dear Martha. He wanted to shake himself – they had been doing so well! Curiosity was one beast, yet to permit suspicion to prevent further information from flowing to you was idiotic.

“This war has torn families and friends apart.” George prayed his peace offering was accepted.

“And will continue to do so, forcing everyone to make decisions on where they stand, even pushing others into corners where they commit actions they deplore,” remarked General Lee.

He studied George then added calmly and with a small smile, “However, the fight is worth it.”

“War is unpleasant and often cruel. We have both seen enough of war to agree with that fact.”

George felt Spado twitch under his hand that lay on the dog’s side - from some dream possibly.

General Lee fully smiled and relaxed.

“Yes, I can agree with you there Commander. We must stop this theme.”

Sensing the return of lighter conversation George played his part.

“Wasn’t that the idea? That we should develop a friendly working relationship so that our men stop fighting each other and attack the enemy instead?”

Lee rolled his eyes. “It is most inconvenient of you spitting my words back at me Commander.”

“General Lee, was that meant to be an incentive to _stop_?”

“Clearly not.” General Lee scowled but without real annoyance.

“Then I am afraid you must to do better for I shall continue.”

Lee was silent for a moment assessing the situation only to be disturbed by a call from outside.

“General Washington, a courier wishes to speak with you.”

Lee immediately rose saying too cheerfully for George, “Please do Commander, just remember our little bet. Spado will be a pleasure.”

Then bowing and smiling General Lee swept out of his tent in terribly good humour. To be truthful George found himself smiling and considering their time well spent.

He had discovered a couple of things about General Lee which might prove beneficial.

He hadn’t surrendered on having Lee refreshing his French. George knew he would simply have to be more subtle and throw the Baron at Lee as a gesture of goodwill.

Perhaps Major Tallmadge would finally be convinced his Commander knew what he was doing, by tying Lee closer to his side.

In the meantime he had a bet to win and a sudden wave of paranoia to fight all due to General Lee. However, he had had his way of retaliating and George promised to jot down phrases of Lee’s to use at opportune occasions.

*** *** ***


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles Lee fights to ensure he is the winner with Ben attempting one last time to undermine his efforts. Washington meanwhile tries to implement his own plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by rae_fa, a wonderful guide in fixing all those errors! This became rather long, but it didn’t suit being broken up into another chapter so sorry!

The strategy meeting was dull and progressing slowly. The early morning fog still lingered with cold white trails curling into the tent. The cold morning wasn’t the only source of discomfort. Charles was acutely aware of the side glances from Washington’s aides, most obviously from Major Tallmadge who rather worryingly seemed to now oscillate from neutral to hostile.

It was a tiresome development and paranoia inducing. In any case, Charles met it as he had with the rest of his plan: equanimity. To descend either into rage or his morose black moods would not protect him for long. His deceit had to be utterly convincing for Washington.

Picking fights with his men and encouraging the current distrust would simply make Charles lose. Losing equalled death. Therefore, Major Tallmadge’s perplexing change in temper had to be treated as if the Major still suspected him.

He would be a fool if he didn’t, but Charles could use Tallmadge’s attitude to further sow discord with Washington while increasing his favour with the General.

Speaking of Washington he was droning on about Baron von Steuben’s new approach to ensuring cleanliness and discipline in the camp. Good ideas based on sound concepts that had most of the officers nodding.

Washington looked around the gathered assembly, eyes alighting on Charles. Meeting the gaze with a relaxed demeanour, Charles wondered why Washington was signalling him out.

“Following our discussion on discipline I would like to encourage more forays into the land around us. It has not escaped my notice that our men are still fumbling about when patrolling. Superior knowledge of the landscape will be of the greatest advantage if the British approach. What are your opinions?”

Realising the opportunity granted by Washington, Charles aimed for sincerity and a touch of admiration.

“I concur, Commander Washington. My men seem to have opposing opinions on where landmarks _are_ , which is not comforting. Familiarity with the hills, trees, bushes and pathways has always aided every battle I have ever been a part of in my long years of service. I therefore wholly support your suggestion.” 

Washington’s astonishment at the unexpected _fervour_ of his support was quickly replaced with gratitude and genuine cheerfulness. While Charles had hoped to gain positive ground with his vigorous support, he hadn’t (like Washington) expected such a warm response.

Charles realised he was smiling in return, suddenly pleased. The sensation was uncomfortable and baffling.

Apart from the natural satisfaction that Washington had believed him sincere, why should he be _pleased_ at Washington’s reaction? They weren’t friends.

They were merely playing Charles’ game of ‘mending their relationship to a civil one’, not actual friendship – therein lay weakness and a potential trap for Charles. Pushing the nuisance emotion down Charles refocused on his objective.

Washington inclined his head graciously, “My gratitude General Lee for your support. Perhaps you would care to lead your men first on a renewed reconnoitring of the area?”

Charles hastily calculated in his head how long since his message had reached Major Andre. Not nearly enough for a response to be received. Panic had unfurled when a memory surfaced.

Carefully maintaining a nonchalant demeanour Charles said evenly, “I would be delighted General. However I have those reports you wished me to check and some other detail you have yet to reveal?”

Washington laughed and Charles saw General Arnold’s cheeks flush and his dark eyes latched onto him with an angry gleam. What was that man’s problem? Congress yes, were fools not to recognise him fully, but surely he realised Washington seemed to like him?

Save him from idiots and unfounded jealously!

Major Tallmadge was red but remarkably holding his tongue. The other officers had the decorum to refrain from outbursts and Baron von Steuben was watching with amusement of his own.

“Very true General Lee, I am properly admonished.”

“Gently I pray.”

“Naturally.”

“Major Bradford, make a note of the fact that I and General Washington agreed yet again in public.”

Major Bradford grinned. “People will say I am fibbing Sir.”

Washington raised an eyebrow. “If you are indeed keeping an account of our new civility, then as long as I receive a copy and live updates I shall sign the book for prosperity’s sake.”

Washington’s aides also leant forward with curious eyes, lips twitching as they combatted laughs.

Bradford with great ceremony withdrew a small book only filled with a few lines detailing the momentous occasions, such as their bet, their successful dinner and handful of conversations. Thankfully all innocent as Charles had guessed it might be read by Washington…and apparently now all the staff.

Bradford offered it to Washington and Tallmadge, voice friendly as he had been urged.

“Would you care to look?”

Tallmadge bit his lip and quelled at the swift and brief glare from his General. Instead he nodded and reached out for the book.

“Thank you Major Bradford.”

“You are most welcome Major Tallmadge.”

Charles caught the glance from Washington and then the man walked over to look at the map by Charles. As he bent over, Charles caught a whisper.

“While it is a relief they are being nice I fancy we hurry affairs on before the shock is too much. We are enough for the men I fear.”

Damn the Commander for making him wish to laugh! Curling his hands Charles managed to say with only the slightest of trembles belying his humour, “Of course. We mustn’t have too many shocks in one day.”

Washington’s eyes crinkled at his reply. He had caught the restrained laughter, but after a quick smile he returned to his position and called order.

Washington’s aides and his own hurriedly read the book offering murmured asides for improvements and when Washington looked away they motioned for Bradford to add their advice to a separate, growing, list.

The whole scene was mortifying even as it heightened congenial attitudes towards him.

It was therefore with relief when the meeting ended. The sun had by then finally dispelled the morning fog, breaking into a heat that settled thickly on them.

As Major Tallmadge would be part of the first group to re-survey the landscape he would meet with the Commander before departing for last minute instructions.

For now though he departed in a black cloud with Bradford squeezing Charles’ elbow discreetly to indicate he would follow at a distance.

Left alone with just Washington, Baron von Steuben and his translator Charles had the sinking feeling he knew what Washington’s secret mission was.

_You are a tricky bastard Commander. What purpose does this serve?_

Charles surveyed the Baron who was speaking lowly to his translator while Washington gathered his papers. Could this be a display of friendship from Washington? But why go so far? Surely they were presently spending enough time in each other’s company not to warrant further grand displays of trust?

Charles glanced away from the Baron and gathered his own papers in a hope to marshal his thoughts before Washington sprung his plan on him.

Maybe this was a means to bring Charles deeper into the fold? Again why? As long as they continued chatting about personal varied interests, why add polishing Charles’ French with Steuben?

Unless Washington wished to keep him close and this would be a generous show of trust and friendship? Keep him close because he suspected Charles’ motives…or out of good will?

Whatever the reasons Charles knew he had to be extremely cautious while maintaining a friendly outlook.

Filled with grudging respect at the Commander’s actions Charles faced Baron von Steuben with a cheerful smile. Charles would not be usurped from his mission.

Washington strode over with cheerfully and said, “I know you said your French was rusty at best General Lee, but please do consider trying to converse with the Baron. It would be nice for him to have more men to talk with and of course, what harm came from dusting off an old language?”

“None,” replied Charles, wary by Washington’s peculiar phrasing. “I simply hope the Baron is patient.”

“Pardon me Baron von Steuben if my French is disjointed. I pray my deficiencies will soon be void.” Addressing the Baron in broken French, Charles saw surprise and intrigue spark in the stern gentleman.

“You are excused General Lee. The best way to polish one’s skills is to dive in without hesitation. We will escort you to your tent so you may continue with your reports. Then if you are free this evening a game of cards mayhap?”

Charles frowned as he considered Steuben’s speech. Most of the words were familiar and after a moment he had what he prayed was the correct translation.

“I am free Baron von Steuben. Please lead the way.”

Bowing to Washington, Charles added, “How is Spado General?”

“In good form, General Lee, and he has completely asserted himself. Shall you be fine?”

“I am happy to hear that Spado is well. Oh, I do believe I shall. I will tell you all about it in one of our conversations.”

Washington grinned unashamedly at his minor gripe and bid them farewell.

Breathing deeply Charles firmly put his hat on to shield against the sun.  Charles tried to summon forth his French from the cobwebbed corner it resided in.

In the short distance they walked to Charles’ tent Steuben turned out to be a relentless teacher, repeating phrases for Charles until he understood them and announced them aloud; he even corrected Charles’ own additions.

It was exhausting for as he recalled his French, a faint murmur ran underneath his thoughts, concerning the reason for all these efforts. Yet his competitive nature rose to the fore and amid his doubts Charles dove in with vigour.

*** *** ***

_Three days later_

To be a great man was to be willing to recognise your faults and admit your mistakes. A man who was unable to see he had made an error was foolish and undeserving of the title ‘a great man’.

While George had never particularly desired the epithet of being a great man, he knew much of the country saw him as such. He had tried to live up to that image as much as any mortal man could, struggling to contain his faults, his temper being one of them.

Upon this occasion George found himself in the unenviable position of not merely acknowledging he had made a mistake, but close to calling for help.

How could one small dog cause so much trouble?

“General Lee will kill me Billy.”

Ducking under his table he used for writing reports George caught the smothered cough. Good heavens, was Billy laughing at him? Yes, the situation was possibly amusing from an outsider’s perspective but not so when deep in the mess.

“I trust Billy that you are finding time to look amid your amusement?”

“Yes sir,” said Billy with the appropriate respect.

George saw no fluffy dog and crawling out from under his desk caught view of Billy through the curtain that divided George’s tent, stooping under George’s bunk.

“Billy?”

“I’m afraid not sir, perhaps he is outside?”

“Providence, spare me. General Lee will nullify our truce and once he has found Spado go for my throat. We must find Spado before he discovers I have mislaid his dog.”

“What if we don’t sir?”

“Ten minutes Billy then I shall inform General Lee myself.” George prayed it would not come to that for the last couple of days had been very pleasant. After the awkward conversation concerning Lee’s past and French speaking abilities they had progressed to careful comments on strategy when in the officers’ meetings.

Their stilted approach of complimenting each other on ideas instead of silent acquiescence or open questioning had been a lesson for George.

He was aware Lee had a bright mind as they had been on good terms in the distant past. Once they put their animosity behind them they were able to use their heads and actually work well together.

Three days ago was an excellent example. The officers’ meeting had proceeded very well. George had focused his energies on General Lee, wishing to show Lee trust and encouragement. It had worked better than he had dreamed. Lee’s fervent support and teasing refrain was enough to momentarily shock George before his natural confidence resurfaced.

George then had the pleasure of catching his aides’ disbelief. Major Tallmadge’s hue was red from indignation yet he remarkably kept his peace. Baron von Steuben was placid and observant while General Arnold was scowling intermittingly. George wasn’t sure what to make of General Arnold; he hoped the man wasn’t suffering too much from his injury.

He had in particular found Lee’s little notebook a splendid invention, bringing together their aides in a huddle. Hopefully, they wouldn’t find it used in bets against or for them.

As it was, George’s plan of drawing General Lee closer by having his French dusted off in a public display of trust was working superbly. Lee’s competitive nature was driving him to fiercely pursue his conversations with Baron von Steuben.

Their morning and evening conversations were rather amusing with Lee muttering the latest mistake or triumph, in between bites of breakfast or supper.

Yet back to the present, Spado had somehow slipped away from George after breakfast and now he was tearing apart his tent looking for the little dog.

Moving a bag George sighed in frustration. “How can a little dog like Spado cause so much trouble? I could carry him on my shoulder if he would stay still.”

“General Lee did mention he was a handful sir.”

George remembered. “Indeed he did Billy. He also, I recall had a perfectly evil smile as he bid me farewell,” the last was said sourly as George realised he had been beautifully outmanoeuvred.

“Now I know why. On the morning of the first day Spado was attempting to climb the leg of my desk – perhaps he thought he was a cat – then after a failed attempt barked menacingly at my spare boots. After that he terrorised my guards into believing he was a vicious guard dog.”

Billy smiled. “That was impressive General.”

George chuckled, “Yes it was and my men clearly need to be toughened if a little dog can scare them.”

Movement caught his eye and frowning George gazed at his long heavy cloak which had fallen onto the floor. There it was again: the shift of fabric.

He either had a very large mouse or worse a rat under there or…

George carefully tugged at the corner of his cloak to see a relieved face peering up at him.

“Spado honestly how did you end up under my cloak?”

A bark and whine and George could see Spado needed help to extract himself. Gently he untangled Spado from where he must have pulled the cloak on top of himself.

Picking up the fluffy dog George cradled the canine to him, checking for injuries. Spado yapped joyfully licking George’s face and pressing a lovely cold nose into the crook of his neck.

“You obviously attacked my cloak Spado and my cloak won.” Struggling to speak sternly to the squirming mass and laughing as Spado’s nose brushed his neck, George managed to stare into Spado’s eyes.

“No more defending me against my own cloak, it is far too big for you.” Kissing Spado on the head George added, “Let us remain firmly with sticks that _I_ choose and no trees or anything else larger than you.”

Spado yapped and licked his nose.

Knowing it was a lost cause George lowered Spado to the floor. “Be a good – no Spado! Don’t try and climb onto the table. Nor go under the tent.”

Exasperated George flung himself after the excited mass and decided that being a great man meant knowing when you had lost and retiring gracefully from the field of battle.

He would simply have to hold another bet with General Lee to win on the next occasion. Not that he was a gambling man, however surely a little trifling thing like this was inoffensive? Of course it must be, as long as no dogs were permitted.  

“Billy, fetch me Baron von Steuben and General Lee! Now.”

Billy fled gasping from not laughing most likely. George let that indignity go, too busy holding a squirming pup.

“Oh no, my dear boy. Until your owner returns, you and I are bosom friends. We shall sit together and greet General Lee with a pleasant good morning.”

Sitting resolutely at his study George wondered how fast General Lee could be summoned.

No wonder the man looked frazzled as did Major Bradford. They had a miniature army in this one fluffy adorable evil package.

“I should set you loose on the British if you were invulnerable to canon fire,” murmured George, “but as you are not I shall unleash you back with General Lee and Major Bradford. Visiting shall be infinitely safer.”

Spado merely barked happily, tail thumping his hand and arm as he peered excitedly about him from his tall perch.

***  *** ***

Charles was overjoyed when Billy Lee appeared at his tent informing him that Washington had admitted defeat. His little Spado was once more his.

Unable to conceal his delight, Charles strode through the camp. Bursting into the Commander’s tent Charles did not wait on ceremony and called for his precious Spado.

It was with some surprise then when a harried looking Washington gently pushed gently pushed his dog into his arms.

Spado yipped in joy and licked his face. Chuckling, Charles kissed his dog back, temporarily forgetting his audience.

“Hello Spado, I missed you. I see you missed me too. Hmmm, were you a good boy?”

“Certainly not,” exclaimed Washington and Charles realised with a flush that he had been awfully sappy in front of his enemy…friend…no, acquaintance.

Looking up Charles saw the merry expression Washington bore. The Commander was smiling despite his words.

“Spado was a terror General Lee and I know you are not surprised by this news.”

“No General Washington I am not. Spado is a wonderful companion but a handful.” Charles tried summoning up an aloof manner but failed miserably as he truly loved his dog and his embarrassment was too strong.

To give Washington credit he let Charles’ fluster go by without comment and instead addressed the newly arrived Billy Lee and Baron von Steuben, sans translator.

“I concede, in your presence Baron von Steuben the bet to General Lee. Please confirm officially that General Lee has won to the officers.”

Charles dutifully translated and watched Steuben raise an eyebrow, the only sign that his French had substantially improved in merely three days.

“I confirm that General Lee has won the bet and that you must hold a party in his honour as soon as practical Commander Washington.”

Charles wanted to shout his delight at _winning_ over Washington to the entire camp, but for once prudence stayed him. Declaring his win so smugly would irritate Washington and lose ground with his old enemy.

Rather, Charles aimed to charm Washington with his excellent conduct in the face of his victory.

“I shall anticipate my party with the greatest of pleasure Commander. Maybe we can even share a toast to show no hard feelings?”

Washington relaxed, the creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth smoothing out.

“A toast for the pair of us would be much appreciated. I trust Spado will not be attending?”

“Oddly enough I fancy my sanity over an evening spent chasing Spado so he shall spend the evening with a trusted confidant…unless you disagree?”

Washington inelegantly snorted. “Not yet succumbing to madness either, I think Spado should remain behind, stomach full of food and drink.”

Spado barked at hearing his name mentioned so frequently and Charles found him and Washington both saying simultaneously, “You would like that eh?”

“I thought you would approve my suggestion Spado.”

Washington startled as did he then shrugged. He appeared quite unalarmed by their sudden friendliness. Charles was shaken. This was crossing into too friendly territory for him.

Teasing his dog good naturedly together had not been part of his plan. It was almost too personal.

Washington seemed to consider this a perfect success and just moved on, addressing Steuben with details for delivering his part of the bet. Charles snapped to attention and cradling Spado translated as best he could.

He would have to be even more careful for he was growing too relaxed around the Commander.

***  *** ***

A week later (two days after winning his bet), found General Lee mounting his horse to proceed with his manoeuvres. Yet Major Bradford was remaining in camp after maiming his ankle in a bad fall. He was on orders to rest.

Watching him with narrowed eyes was Major Tallmadge. He knew the General had to be aware of him but the man never deigned to glance in his direction. Somehow being ignored was supremely annoying.

Ben had tried for days to abide by Sackett’s advice to play nice and wait for Lee to expose himself. However, a week had passed and Ben feared he was losing all power of conviction over General Washington.

Despite what Sackett and even Caleb said, he couldn’t wait silently any longer. If he did then General Washington could be in grave danger…the entire cause could be lost. Ben was in charge of the spy ring, entrusted by the Commander and he wouldn’t fail him.

The Commander may be distancing himself from Ben, but Ben was devoted to the cause of independence and to serving General Washington faithfully. He would attempt to speak sense to the man he admired so much now that snake was briefly out of camp.

Lee’s win of their private bet had the two generals on even better terms. It was maddening. Lee’s poison had to stop here and now, warnings to be quiet from his friends, in this case, had to be ignored. Ben inhaled sharply when Lee departed and turned to march to the Commander’s tent.

He had sent Caleb on a small mission and Sackett was busy fussing over his latest invention so he wouldn’t be stopped.

He did not notice an injured Bradford slipping from behind a tree and following causally some distance behind. When Ben reached Washington’s tent, he announced his presence and was granted an audience. Bradford limped without any notice to behind the tent and listened carefully.

General Washington met him with a sigh.

“Major Tallmadge, I pray that your presence indicates new information from our illustrious Culper?”

Ben swallowed but did not abate from his course of action.

“No sir, I haven’t heard from him or any of my contacts for a while. I may send a message soon to discover why. My presence here is in respect of General Lee.”

The small shred of Washington’s humour that had lingered upon his arrival vanished. He leaned back in his chair eyes fixed on him. His face was calm and his tone deceptively so.

“Has General Lee suffered an injury or set-back? It is reassuring he has trusted you to bear me these tidings.”

Ben stayed still, shoulders straight, gaze holding his Commander’s.

“No sir, I have come to warn you against trusting General Lee. I know that for some reason you do not trust my source, but I implore you to give me an opportunity to prove its validity.”

“We have discussed this Major-”

The icy glare was unnerving but Ben persevered.

“Yes sir, but I have stayed silent for too long. General Lee has been oddly nice and fawning to you Commander! He _must_ be plotting a course of action which could undermine our fight. Please General, why would he fix his relationship with you over a brawl between your men and his?”

“Since it was causing enough disruption to make our men unfit for battle,” remarked Washington icily.

“His attitude has changed astonishingly to suddenly swallow his pride!” Ben went white at his unbecoming cry.

Hastily continuing for he saw the red colour suffuse Washington’s cheeks and knew his Commander was about to admonish him, Ben gave all his devotion in his plea.

“General Washington, I fear that General Lee has some other plot in mind considering the evidence that he is a traitor.”

“Evidence? A scrap of paper is now evidence? Especially from an unidentified source? I had not realised my spy ring had become so unprofessional and foolish.”

Washington leant forward. “Major, what we have is merely slander with no hard proof. Our personal dislikes cannot render us unjust. I am disappointed you do not trust me to judge a man’s character. I have not accepted General Lee’s offer of a truce without proper consideration.”

Rising, Washington towered over him, anger contained yet ready to surface.

“Trust me when I say that I have the matter under control. Whether General Lee is a traitor or not is unproved. In either case I am working to bring General Lee close to me so it is impossible for him to betray us…if he is so inclined. Now, that I am enjoying General Lee’s company is a surprise, but makes the task far more pleasant.”

A small smile played on Washington’s lips, “I daresay that General Lee is not unaffected at our contact. You must agree that he is less short-tempered and a happier fellow thus far. I doubt his mood changes will vanish but we appear to be forming a sensible relationship. Surely that is evidence enough that matters are under control?”

“I trust you more than any man I have followed Sir, but General Lee is a traitor and must answer for his crimes.”

“Contain yourself Major Tallmadge!” rasped Washington, fury uncoiled.

“If you had absolute proof that General Lee is a traitor then indeed he would stand for his crimes. I doubt such evidence exists or can be found with such obvious overtures. Since you cannot trust me nor obey your Commander’s directives then I must strip you of the title of head of intelligence.”

Ben’s stomach clenched, sweat breaking out all over his skin, his heart hammering

“Leave now Major Tallmadge before I must strip you of your rank as well.”

White faced and clearly disappointed, Washington glared at him. Devastated but knowing he had lost while General Lee had won, Ben saluted and left.

His world was a shambles and he felt tears threaten; blinking his eyes Ben walked in a daze to his tent. How could General Washington do that and say that to his most loyal soldier?

Sickened and horrified Ben collapsed on his bunk and shut his eyes. His tears fell as he realised there was nothing he could do: any move he made to show Lee a traitor would be discarded as unsustainable. He had done what he was advised against and now he must reap the consequences.

“Ben? Oh no, what’s wrong?”

Caleb’s anxious voice and hand on his shoulder was too much, Ben buried his head into his arms, consumed by misery.

“Oh Benny boy you fool. You went and talked to Washington didn’t you?”

Caleb’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

“You idiot. What has happened now?”

Ben mumbled a response and was impressed Caleb understood.

“Fuck…you’re no longer head of intelligence. A fine mess you created. Don’t worry, we’ll fix this.”

Wishing he could believe Caleb, Ben just ignored him for now, wallowing in his rashness. Caleb for his part stayed silent, offering quiet support.

*** *** ***

Charles lay stretched out on his bunk joints aching from his rheumatism. The day had been harsh on his body. The strain of searching for a hidden message and discovering one had done nought to help.

Reading the translated message Charles closed his eyes in relief.

Andre had released him from service.

_All correspondence is to stop. Lie low and do not contact me further. I shall not contact you after this message. We will keep your secret if you do not disturb any future plans. Destroy everything agent._

_Yours,_

_Macbeth._

Charles wondered at the ‘future plans’. Another agent perhaps? Though how Major Andre would unearth another traitor close to Washington was perplexing. Charles could not think of anyone pliable, desperate or resentful enough to turn.

Yet _he_ had so maybe the resourceful Major would find a promising candidate. However it was no longer his business.

Discarding thoughts about identifying a likely traitor Charles crawled from his bed and gathered all his supplies. Using a small clay bowl he normally used to mix oils for his muscles, he set paper and twigs which had been beaten out of his coat after a day in the forest.

Lighting the tinder Charles fanned it to a small fire and began by relegating to the fire his code transcript, his coded notes and broke his beautiful quills to feed bit by bit. Charles mourned them as he had loved them particularly.

It took a while for the fire was small but eventually it ate everything and finally went his message from Andre.

He was free. Once the fire was finished a very overwhelmed Charles doused it.

Nothing was left but ashes. Scooping these up, Charles smeared them in-between rags he used for cleaning up after he had used his oils. He would add these to a camp fire soon enough when sitting with the men. No one would mark his actions as he usually destroyed old rags like these.

Utterly exhausted and shaking from the pain that now was intense, Charles was ready to lie down again.

Alas, unfortunately at that moment Bradford entered and his expression after a formal greeting changed to one of triumph.

“General Lee, I have good news for you.”

“Then tell me as you mix up my ointment Major. I am too weary to try.”

Bradford nodded and raised an eyebrow at the mess. Yet with a whistle he found the spare bowl and began working.

“Major Tallmadge has fallen out of favour with the Commander.”

“Nothing new there Bradford.”

Easing his boots off Charles hissed and struggled with his coat and shirt.

“Tallmadge is no longer head of intelligence.”

_What?_ Stunned and hopeful, Charles got tangled in his shirt. Bradford freed him gently.

Bradford grinned, which suited his handsome face. Pity there weren’t any women to appreciate the sight thought Charles amusedly.

“General Washington sent him away in disgrace. He doesn’t seem to believe you are a traitor or least doesn’t believe the proof is sufficient. I very unfortunately couldn’t hear what he said next as I had to move away briefly as a couple guards came close, but I caught the rupture of their acquaintance.”

“This is excellent news! A shame you couldn’t hear everything but it is enough. Well done Major. You have saved us both. Do not relax too quickly, but breathe easier.”

Rolling onto his stomach Charles whispered, “I will work my medicine into my hands, knees and ankles, please just do my back and shoulders. Also mind your ankle and sit before you fall.”

“Perhaps if you do the other areas first so you can rest General? I am also not that badly hurt.”

Charles laughed. “Good man Bradford. Yet your excuse about your ankle is weak. If limping and looking grey is not badly hurt we need to discuss your language choices.”

Bradford snorted but with a sigh sank beside him. Charles lay on his stomach as he figured out his next step. “I shall speak to Washington tonight very sweetly to endeavour to fracture his connection with Tallmadge. I mustn’t act as if I know about their altercation, but I can be friendly.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Nothing, Bradford - you should merely be careful. Tallmadge is an angry snake waiting to strike. He may not be able to act now but he is still dangerous. Once I am secure so will you. I shall attempt to have you posted somewhere else to your advantage both in rank and away from him.”

“Thank you sir. The ointment is ready. Do you need help General Lee?”

Sighing at having to move again he was nonetheless happy.

“No, I can manage until you have to do my back.”

Charles was eager to press his advantage so he was very happy even with a bout of his rheumatism.

*** *** ***

Darkness had crept in while he had been brooding over the reports urgently requiring his attention. After that most catastrophic meeting with Major Tallmadge the day had slid into one of repressed anger as he did urgent tasks, buffered with a steady stream of soldiers and officers.

Now however he had the time and solace to think in peace. So for the last hour he had contemplated how the situation could have gone so badly.

Each time he followed through a different permutation he ended up in the same place.

Major Tallmadge’s disobedience was genuinely upsetting as he was fond of the boy. It was also behaviour unfitting of any solider, most particularly an officer, as discipline must be maintained.

By flagrantly continuing his suspicions against General Lee the lad was dismissing George’s authority – something no commander could risk. George knew his reasons must appear perplexing to Tallmadge, but that was where trust and faith in one’s leaders came into play.

George rubbed his temples at the headache firmly lodged there. No, he had to relieve Major Tallmadge of command as much as he loathed to. He couldn’t risk further disruption with Tallmadge ruining an alliance with the French, if they knew of such deep-seated divisions between the Commander-in-Chief and his second in command.

George did not believe General Lee was harmless but the man was not in a position to betray them. He was spending too much time in Steuben and George’s presence, let alone running around his men, to achieve those goals.

He was also good company which still was very peculiar and gave George moments where he thought they must be mad somehow.

Billy ghosted past, lighting candles and lanterns, but thankfully not speaking. George blinked at the brightness which hurt his eyes.

Gently massaging his temples George cleared his throat.

“Billy, I will retire early tonight. Please ensure my aides know this.”

“Of course Sir,” replied Billy who bowed and was about to leave when General Lee was announced.

George twitched. The man who had caused all this commotion had arrived. Slight resentment stirred but George cruelly crushed it. The General had done nothing to exacerbate Major Tallmadge recently, beyond actually being pleasant. Apparently that was an offence these days.

General Lee paused and a worried frown creased his forehead. His eyes however, were full of restrained pain. George recognised the look.

“Are you well Commander? I am not disturbing you, am I?”

Lee’s voice was slightly too light as if he were trying to breathe shallowly.

“A headache that is all General Lee, nothing to be overly concerned over. I have had a tiring day that is all. Please come in.”

Lee nodded and carefully walked further into the tent. The candlelight showed a pale face and lines around his mouth.

“Are you well General Lee, you seem to be in some pain?”

Lee startled, surprised by his question. “Yes, my rheumatism has flared up today. However Major Bradford was good enough to assist me even injured as he was. The man doesn’t know what bed rest means.”

It was an amusing image of one injured major hobbling around his stricken General, both probably wary of the other’s hurts. Chuckling at the idea George was grateful for the light-heartedness it brought.

Lee grinned despite his pain and eased himself into a seat.

“The scene was rather pathetic I admit.”

George smiled, “Were there issues?”

“We may have been suited to a comedy by the time Major Bradford finished and attempted to stand.”

“Then you decided to come all the way to my tent? I would feel honoured though I fear trouble may be the cause of it.”

Lee shrugged. “I was trying to loosen my muscles and joints after a rest. Staying still long can cause the problem to worsen, but as I was wandering rather aimlessly I concede I saw someone and decided discretion was best.”

Intrigued George forgot his headache briefly. “Now I confess to being incredibly curious as to who could cause the great General Lee to run.”

Lee thankfully took that well and merely grinned.

“Baron von Steuben was also taking a constitutional.”

George’s lips twitched though worry curdled in his stomach. “Surely the French is not proceeding so badly?”

“No, it is going _too_ well – the man is merciless”

“So you ran to safety…in my tent?” The ludicrously of the situation, that Lee would seek sanctuary from George Washington was both astonishing and hilarious.

“What a terrible accusation,” remarked Lee sniffing. He rubbed his left knee watching him with indignation before a saying casually, “which I refuse to answer.”

It was too much and George laughed, amazed at how Lee, the cause of all this fuss, could actually lighten his spirits.

Lee rolled his eyes. “Laugh at my distress if you must. However, now that I am here perhaps we can rectify the terrible proclamation you made to me last night.”

“Pardon?”

“That you stated without hesitation and gross mistruth, that Macbeth isn’t Shakespeare’s best play; that indeed, his best is a Midsummer Night’s Dream. How do you answer that General Washington?”

Lee was scandalised, glaring at him yet his shoulders shook as if might laugh.

Forgetting his headache and seizing the opportunity to raise his spirits a little, though he argued to his conscience it would also continue to help mend their fractured relationship, George rose to the challenge.

“That sir needs no defending but since you insist.”

“Oh I do!”

“Then let me ask Billy when he returns to bring light refreshments and we shall debate until we both succumb to our pains.”

Lee grimaced as he leant forward to shake his hand in agreement.

“That may be sooner than we desire.”

George went to fetch a cushion which he offered to Lee. “Use this for your back at least while we argue.  Will not have it said that I had an unfair advantage.”

“As if anyone could have any advantage when arguing that Macbeth is not a work of art.”

George sighed. “Well sir, after that comment I shall take every advantage I need.”

Matching Lee’s arrogant gaze George settled down for an entertaining hour or so on discussing the merits of two Shakespearean plays.

*** *** ***

Caleb finished recounting his conversation with Ben and watched Sackett’s expression. At first he had been curious and sympathetic then horrified.

“What a spectacularly foolish course of action by Major Tallmadge, Mr Brewster.”

Sackett polished his glasses and frowned in concentration. 

“There is nothing we can do is there Sackett?”

“I saw how cheerful General Washington was this morning. Apparently General Lee spent the evening with him; considering how furious he was with Major Tallmadge just prior to that then no there is not much we can do.”

Caleb was unsurprised by Sackett’s opinion as it matched his own, but it wouldn’t suffice for Ben whose spirit was very low.

“So we wait for this madness to fix itself?”

Sackett replaced his glasses and calmly picked a letter. Selecting a bottle he dipped a brush into the container and began applying it to the paper. Caleb never grew tired of seeing the true ink materialise and watched with fascination.

“Yes Mr Brewster we wait. Hopefully the young Major will now practise the patience we both preached. We must have faith that the Commander is not allowing himself to be deceived, or at least too much.”

“In that case I’ll just go and keep Ben company. Good luck with that. ”  

Sackett smiled without looking up.

“Thank you Mr Brewster and good luck with your mission.”

Caleb nodded. “I’ll need it.”

Casting a glance at the letter before he left Caleb supposed they would have become like the invisible ink: invisible in the background, watchful until the moment came to appear and save the day. With luck they wouldn’t need to come to the General’s help.

Striding off and through the bustling camp full of the shouts of men, the smell of too many bodies and smoke from fires, Caleb saw a red-eyed Ben slumped by an empty camp fire.

The other soldiers must have disbanded once the morose officer appeared. Relieved yet worried Caleb dashed over.

“Come on Ben, no misery is allowed here.” Grinning widely Caleb sat and swung an arm over his friend’s shoulder.

Ben scowled at him, but undeterred Caleb ploughed on.

“I spoke to Sackett and he agrees. We have to lie and wait. My advice, which you have to take this time Benny, is to be quiet and watchful. No one catches a predator by stomping all over the place hollering.”

Ben went red and coughed.

“So, we will watch General Lee and Washington.” Snagging a bowl Caleb scooped what he hoped was porridge though it was a bit too lumpy.

 “We will be nice and quiet, helpful even. That way we will ensure that the Commander does not need us to save him one day.”

Caleb began eating what transpired was porridge just not very _good_ porridge. He ate quietly knowing Ben was considering his words and would this time listen.

He was proven correct when a soft voice whispered, “Thank you Caleb. You’re a clever man.”

Caleb licked his spoon and met his friend’s weary smile and red eyes with a chuckle.

“I am aren’t I?”

“Bastard.”

“A bastard who knows what he is talking about. So we have a deal?”

Ben nodded, “Yes, it just rankles that General Lee has won.”

Caleb said nothing but finished eating his porridge in silence.

*** *** ***

Andre bent over his papers carefully considering his plan. Miss Peggy Shippen was becoming more intrigued by him, which was ideal as her inclusion was vital to luring General Arnold to the British.

The latest information he had managed to gather suggested some friction concerning General Arnold and fellow officers. The hero of Saratoga was not an easy man to associate with, yet he still maintained Washington’s trust. That would, Andre knew, make the difference between him and General Lee.

Satisfied there was no further information to glean from the reports Andre packed everything away securely and departed with a farewell to Abigail.

Minutes later he was in the gardens espying the beautiful Peggy Shippen. Summoning his charm Andre set out to make Peggy love him.

“Good day Miss Shippen! How are you on this fine afternoon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented, left a kudos or bookmarked the fic :). Manipulative Charles Lee was a lot of fun to write!


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